


Where The Heart Is

by gemjam



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2017-12-20 12:19:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 57,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemjam/pseuds/gemjam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Mark returns home for the summer after finishing university he finds himself stuck between childhood and adulthood, trying to work out what comes next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part of what I am calling the Red Bull Soap Opera, as inspired by the following prompt:
> 
>  
> 
> _Could someone please write some Red Bull Racing family fic where Christian and Adrian are gay dads, Seb and Mark are their kids and JEV, Dan, DC are cousins and let it be cute and fluffy and can we have Jenson as Mark's best friend who Seb's in love with?_  
>  Just make it a nice big family because RBR is a flawed, dysfunctional but lovely family!

Mark pulls into the driveway, eyeing the boxes in the backseat of his car before giving a heavy sigh. He lets himself into the house, drawn through to the kitchen by the delicious smells. He sees Christian at the island chopping vegetables and he can’t help but smile.

“You’re cooking?”

Christian looks up, a grin coming over his face. “Mark,” he greets, abandoning his task and crossing the kitchen to wrap Mark in a suffocating hug. “How are you? How was the journey?” he asks, still gripping Mark tight.

“Fine,” Mark responds, wriggling his way out of the hug. “It’s less than an hour.”

“And yet you never visit,” Christian comments, returning to his chopping.

“Smells good,” Mark says, trying to change the subject. He leans against the counter, stealing a carrot baton.

“Hey,” Christian complains, trying to swat his hand away. “Family dinner, tonight, in your honour.”

Mark looks at his watch. “Is it going to be long? I’m heading out in a bit.”

“Out?” Christian asks, looking up at him. “You’re not going out tonight. It’s family dinner.”

“I have plans,” Mark tells him with a shrug.

Christian shakes his head. “You’re staying here tonight. That’s final.”

“I have plans,” Mark insists. “It’s Fernando’s leaving party, he’s going back to Spain tomorrow, I can’t miss it. Also, I’m an adult, you can’t lock me in the house.”

“Fernando will be back in a few weeks for graduation and you’ll spend all next year with him doing your Master’s,” Christian points out. “It’s not like you’re never going to see him again.”

“That’s not the point,” Mark responds, crossing his arms over his chest.

“And if you want to move back in here over the summer then you can drop the attitude,” Christian tells him.

“I wouldn’t say _want_ ,” Mark mutters. “Lease was up on the house, what other choice do I have?”

“Yes, how terrible to get stuck back here with your loving parents for a few months,” Christian comments dryly. “You have somewhere sorted for September, right?”

“Yeah,” Mark says, keeping his voice quiet like it will hide the lie.

“Good,” Christian replies, focussing on his chopping again. “Now, tonight is for family. Speaking of which, go say hello to your father.”

“I assume he’s chained to the drawing board,” Mark says, stealing another carrot baton as he dodges Christian’s hand. The door to Adrian’s study is ajar and Mark knocks on it as he pushes it open. “Hey.”

Adrian looks up from his work, his eyes lighting up when he sees Mark. “Hey, kid,” he greets, motioning Mark over. He doesn’t stand, just hugs Mark to his side, keeping one arm around Mark’s waist as he looks up at him. “I hear you’re going out tonight?” he asks.

“Nah,” Mark dismisses, leaning against Adrian as he looks at his drawing. “It’s family night.”

“Glad to hear it,” Adrian replies.

“That looks nice,” Mark says, nodding towards the house plans Adrian’s working on.

“Yeah,” Adrian sighs. “I just wish I could afford to build something like that for us.”

“No one needs a pool _and_ a tennis court,” Mark says. “That’s just extravagant.”

“So which would you choose?” Adrian asks.

“Me? I’d have the tennis court,” Mark replies. “But Seb’s like a fish, he’d want the pool.”

“Guess I’d just have to build both then,” Adrian responds. He looks up at Mark. “You need a hand unpacking the car?”

Mark nods. “Thanks.”

They’re on their second trip when Sebastian arrives home, top shirt button open, school tie skewed to one side, backpack slung over his shoulder. He pauses at the end of the driveway, watching Mark and Adrian.

“Seb,” Adrian greets with a smile. “Grab a box.”

Sebastian pulls a face but he goes to the backseat of Mark’s car and pulls out the last box, grimacing under the weight. He kicks the door closed as he struggles to balance.

“Watch the car,” Mark complains.

“You didn’t pay for it,” Sebastian returns, heading for the house.

“Don’t worry,” Adrian tells him. “We’ll buy you your very own rust bucket as soon as you turn seventeen and pass your test.”

Sebastian dumps the box on Mark’s bed with a disgruntled noise. “What’s in there?”

Mark lifts the flap of the box to look. “That one? Text books.”

Sebastian gives him a weary look. “Why do you even still have those? You’ve finished your course.”

Mark shrugs, leaning back against the desk. “Haven’t gotten around to selling them yet.”

“Because nobody wants to buy books on animal husbandry and how to artificially inseminate a cow,” Sebastian says.

“Yup,” Mark agrees. “That’s all I’ve learnt in the last three years.”

“I’ve got revision to do,” Sebastian says, turning to leave the room.

“Family dinner tonight,” Adrian tells him.

“Can’t wait,” Sebastian responds without the slightest hint of enthusiasm.

“He’s moody,” Mark comments.

“Yeah,” Adrian agrees. “He’s fifteen. What’s your excuse?”

Mark looks at him and sighs. If Christian made a comment like that Mark would doubtlessly start an argument with him but Adrian’s always so calm that it seems absurd to raise your voice in his presence. Instead he inspires thoughtfulness and consideration and Mark always feels far more chastised than when Christian goes on one of his rants.

“You should keep hold of the books,” Adrian suggests. “They might come in handy for your Master’s.”

Mark dips his head, feeling even smaller. He takes his phone from his pocket. “I have to call Jenson.”

Adrian nods. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

Mark goes to find a free spot on his bed amongst the boxes as Adrian closes the door behind himself. It’s one button on his homepage to connect him to Jenson; he spends half his life on the phone with him and the other half with him. Jenson picks up after two rings.

“Hey,” he greets. “What time you picking me up tonight?”

Mark sighs, falling back onto his bed. “I can’t go.”

“What?” Jenson asks. “What do you mean you can’t go? What’s going on?”

“Family dinner,” Mark says wearily. “That’s what’s going on. God, anyone would think I was twelve.”

“So, I guess operation get off with Fernando while he’s drunk and then not have to face him for weeks because he’s on a plane to Spain in the morning is off,” Jenson says sadly.

“Yup,” Mark agrees.

“And that was such a flawless plan,” Jenson says, the hint of sarcasm not lost on Mark.

“Well, that’s it, my last best chance,” Mark sighs. “God, I can’t believe I wasted three years not fucking him.”

“He’ll be back in September,” Jenson assures him. “You’ve still got one more year to fuck it up entirely.”

“That’s a great comfort,” Mark replies. “Thanks, mate.”

“Can I come to yours for dinner?” Jenson asks. “Line my stomach with something decent before the party?”

“Family only,” Mark tells him.

“We’ve been best friends since we were four,” Jenson says. “We’re basically family.”

“Christian’s pretty keen on it being the four of us,” Mark replies. “Adrian would have you in a heartbeat, I’m sure.”

“He just loves his waifs and strays,” Jenson agrees.

“I better call Fernando,” Mark says.

“Don’t worry, I’ll comfort him in your absence,” Jenson says.

“You lay one finger on him and I’ll kill you,” Mark tells him.

Jenson laughs. “He’s really not my type. I’ll catch up with you later. Have fun with the folks tonight.”

“Yeah,” Mark agrees. “Have a good night.”

They hang up and Mark navigates his contacts to find Fernando’s number. As he listens to it ringing he feels himself get nervous and he’s aware of how ridiculous it is. They’ve been friends since they were first years and yet the more Mark got to know him the more Fernando made him feel like some awkward, fumbling teenager.

“Mark, hello,” Fernando greets joyfully and Mark has a feeling he’s started drinking already. It’s sickening he won’t be able to take advantage of that fact.

“Hey,” he greets, trying to sound upbeat. “Listen, I’m really sorry, I’m not going to make it tonight.”

“No,” Fernando says, sounding dismayed. “You must come. Will be an excellent party.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Mark agrees regrettably. “I just, I have this family thing, I can’t get out of it. Sorry. You know I’d love to be there.”

“We will not get to say goodbye?” Fernando asks sadly.

“Guess not,” Mark sighs.

“Then I will tell you what,” Fernando says. “You cannot come tonight, you can see me tomorrow. You can drive me to the airport. Yes?”

“Drive you to the airport?” Mark asks.

“Yes, you have a car, you can do this,” Fernando says. “If you are not busy.”

“No, I can, I can do it,” Mark agrees eagerly. “Yeah, that sounds good. Let’s do that.”

“Yes,” Fernando states firmly. “And we can say goodbye.”

“Yeah,” Mark agrees. “Okay.”

“Good,” Fernando says.

“Good,” Mark returns, unable to keep the smile off his face. “So, uh, enjoy your party tonight and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You will,” Fernando replies.

“Great,” Mark smiles. “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“I have been to many parties with you,” Fernando says. “There is not much you wouldn’t do.”

Mark laughs. “Well, then, don’t do anything I _would_ do.”

“I will try,” Fernando says. “Have a good night.”

As soon as he’s off the phone Mark sends a text to Jenson.

_To: Jenson_  
From: Mark  
17:34  
Giving Fernando a lift to the airport tomorrow. It’s back on. 

_To: Mark_  
From: Jenson  
17:36  
You’re going to kiss him in the airport in front of everyone? Don’t think so, mate. Keep dreaming. You’re his chauffer. 

_To: Jenson_  
From: Mark  
17:37  
I’ve seen a lot of porn films where that role would get me action ;) 

_To: Mark_  
From: Jenson  
17:40  
Keep that porn stash handy. You’ll need it over your long Fernando-less summer. 

Mark sighs, dropping his phone down onto the bed next to him and looking around at all the boxes. Coming home feels like such a huge step backwards and he’s worried that if he unpacks he’ll never get out again. It’s not like this is the worst place in the world he could be, he has two loving parents who’d do anything for him and a custom built house that was made with love, but he thought after three years of university and a degree he might have worked out his place in the world. So far the only thing he’s sure of is that doing a Master’s isn’t what he wants. Other than that, he’s as clueless as he was when he walked out of that door at eighteen.

He stares up at the ceiling, the fluffy white clouds that Adrian painted there for him when he was a kid because he could never bear to be indoors. He wishes that it was dark so he could switch off the lights and make the glow in the dark stars light up, all placed in accurate constellations.

He looks across to the reading nook that would have been a closet in any other house, a den of cushions where he used to read comics and sports magazines but never school books. It was forever covered in dog hairs from where he used to lay in there with Poppy when she was still alive. They had to replace all the cushions and blankets a few years back when she decided to give birth to her puppies in there. Mark smiles at the memory, the tiny little yelpy things that lived in his room for the first few weeks of their lives. He thinks he should probably have a bigger bond with them because of that but it was always Poppy that felt like his. He misses her.

He gets to his feet and wanders across the hallway to Sebastian’s room. There’s an actual do not disturb sign from a hotel room on his door that he must have picked up on some holiday, or more likely Adrian had brought it back from one of his trips to meet with ludicrously rich clients who wanted a new house. It was the kind of thing Adrian would think was a good present.

He taps his knuckles against the door. “Are you wanking in there?”

“Piss off,” Sebastian calls back.

Mark smiles to himself, heading down the stairs. Christian is still cooking, stirring something on the stove, and Mark sits down on one of the stools at the other side of the island. He remembers putting Sebastian up here when he was still tiny enough to trust that Mark was a kind big brother, telling him to stay there or he’d get eaten by sharks, knowing full well Sebastian’s legs were too little to get himself down.

“You okay?” Christian asks.

“Yeah,” Mark replies softly. He crosses his arms on the counter in front of him and rests his chin down on them.

“Will you be able to find your bed tonight?” Christian asks.

“I can find it,” Mark responds. “Might not be able to get into it.” Christian shakes his head, checking one of the pans. “When did you become a housewife?” Mark asks.

“I’m not being a housewife, I’m being an attentive parent,” Christian says. “This is all for your benefit.”

Mark smiles, touched. “Thanks.” He sits up, stretching his arms out in front of him. “It’ll earn you some brownie points with Adrian too though, right?”

“I do feed him,” Christian says.

Sebastian comes into the room with that typical teenage slump to his walk. “Tell Mark what the do not disturb sign means,” he says, opening the fridge to take out a drink.

“Mark, don’t disturb your brother when he’s revising,” Christian says.

“What? I was just checking in,” Mark says innocently.

“He wasn’t,” Sebastian insists, snapping his can open. “He was taking the piss.”

Christian gives Mark a look and Mark just shrugs, even though he can’t keep the smile off his face. Sebastian goes to leave the room again.

“Stay down here, dinner’s nearly ready,” Christian tells him.

“But I want to finish this module,” Sebastian complains.

“Stay,” Christian orders.

Sebastian sighs but goes to join Mark sitting at the island. He sips his drink. Christian looks the pair of them over.

“See, isn’t this nice, how we’re all sat here wishing we could be anywhere else,” he states sarcastically.

“I told Jenson I wouldn’t be going tonight,” Mark says.

“I’m sure you two can stand to be apart for one night,” Christian says.

“How is Jenson?” Sebastian asks, aiming for casual, but he misses by about a thousand miles.

“Fine,” Mark replies. “There’s a big party tonight so I’m sure he’ll be getting his leg over.”

“Good for him,” Sebastian mumbles into his can before taking another sip, his cheeks colouring a subtle pink.

“Yes, charming,” Christian agrees, giving Mark a look. “Go and tell your father dinner’s ready.”

Mark slides off his stool, heading for Adrian’s study.

It’s not a surprise in itself that dinner is so much fun, catching up and swapping stories, but Mark finds that he’s not quite as bitter about missing the party as he thought he’d be. Jenson’s right, he’s never going to kiss Fernando anyway.

He’s known Fernando since first year, they’d had a few lectures together, moved in the same circles of friends, and Mark might have objectively noticed how attractive Fernando, and his accent, were but it wasn’t until their final year when they ended up sharing a house together that things changed. It was those quiet moments that came with living together, the little insights into each other’s lives, that had Mark really falling for Fernando. If he was doing his Master’s like Fernando and Jenson are then the three of them would be sharing a house again and Mark would have more time to build on this, but Mark won’t be back at uni in September and so he’s probably never going to get Fernando at all.

Sebastian isn’t too grumpy through dinner, a glimmer of the cheeky boy he always was before the hormones set in, but as soon as the dessert plates are being cleared away he gets to his feet.

“I have to get back to my revision,” he says.

“The dogs need walking,” Christian tells him.

“I can take the dogs,” Mark offers. “I’ve missed taking them out.”

“Walking the dogs is Sebastian’s job,” Christian says firmly. “It gets him out of his bedroom for twenty minutes.”

“But I had to cut it short earlier,” Sebastian complains. “And Mark _wants_ to take them.”

“No arguments,” Christian says. “Off you go.”

“Ugh, fine, I’ll just fail my exams,” Sebastian spits out, turning on his heel and leaving the room.

Mark can hear him stomping around in the hallway, putting his shoes on, rattling the dog leads as he takes them off the hook. Mark gets to his feet, following him through. Without a word he leans down to pull his own trainers on. Sebastian looks at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Coming with you,” Mark responds.

“I don’t want you to come with me,” Sebastian says.

“Can’t let a pretty thing like you go wandering around those country lanes at night on your own,” Mark says.

Sebastian gives him a disgusted look. “Dad, tell him he can’t come,” he calls through to the living room, clearly not caring which of them responds just that one of them takes his side.

“Have fun, boys,” Christian calls back.

Sebastian gives an irritated huff, heading for the door.

“Hugo, Bernie, Flav,” Mark yells. The dogs come bounding through, nearly knocking Sebastian off his feet. Sebastian throws the dog leads at Mark and steps out of the door.

Mark waits until they’re past the houses and out in the field, the dogs off their leads, before he talks again, hoping the fresh air might have levelled Sebastian’s mood out a little. He glances over at him to see he has his hands buried inside the pouch of his hoodie.

“Do you think they’re having a quickie while we’re gone?”

Sebastian’s nose crinkles up. “Gross.”

Mark laughs. “It’s just sex.”

Sebastian hunches his shoulders up like he’s cold, but Mark knows it means he’s uncomfortable. “I think Christian’s cleaning the kitchen and Adrian’s back sketching in his study.”

“He works too hard,” Mark says.

“Genius takes time,” Sebastian shrugs.

Mark nods. “You take after him.”

Sebastian smiles, ducking his head down. “You take after Christian. The animals and the fact that you’ve always got something to say, whether anyone wants to hear it or not.”

“I’m not that bad,” Mark dismisses. His phone chimes in his pocket, announcing a text message.

_To: Mark_  
From: Jenson  
20:23  
You’re missing a very interesting game of twister 

Mark sighs. Just his luck. He tries very hard not to imagine Fernando bent over in a variety of contorted positions.

“Who was that?” Sebastian asks.

“Jenson,” Mark replies, knowing just what effect that single word has on Sebastian. “Now there’s someone who doesn’t know when to shut up.”

“Jenson’s okay,” Sebastian murmurs, like he doesn’t quite have the guts to say it out loud.

“Jenson’s the best,” Mark agrees. “And he’s so far out of your league he’s not even in orbit.”

Sebastian makes an incredulous noise. “Like I care.”

Mark watches the dogs running around, chasing each other. “I think they’re curled up on the sofa finishing the bottle of wine off,” he says, picking up the thread from their earlier conversation. “Which I noticed you didn’t touch.”

“I have exams,” Sebastian says. “I need to concentrate.”

“It’s Friday night,” Mark says. “You need to chill it with the studying, you’re going to drive yourself insane.”

“I’ll chill after my exams,” Sebastian tells him.

Mark sighs. “It’s only your GCSE’s,” he says. “You take life far too seriously.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian agrees. “Because I want to get a degree in more than sheep shagging.” Mark slaps him on the back of the head. “Ow,” Sebastian complains.

“Bernie’s rolling in a cowpat,” Mark points out.

“Oh fuck,” Sebastian mutters, running over to stop him.

When they get back to the house Mark leaves Sebastian to hose Bernie off outside, heading through to the kitchen to find that Sebastian’s prediction was correct.

“What happened to family night?” he asks.

Christian looks up from loading the dishwasher. “Your father had a moment of inspiration, he had to jot it down,” he explains. “Go get him, we can watch a film or play a board game.”

Mark shakes his head, sitting down at the island again. Adrian designed the kitchen to be the heart of the house, large and spacious with a collection of seating and a large table for family meals, and it does seem to be the place where they all gravitate to. There are large folding doors that open up onto the deck, raised above the rest of the garden, and whenever Adrian sits there, which isn’t often enough, he looks like he’s surveying his kingdom.

“I hate you, Mark,” Sebastian yells through the house, slamming the door behind himself.

“I didn’t point the cowpat out to him,” Mark calls back. “Bernie,” he says in response to Christian’s questioning look.

“Ah,” Christian says.

They can hear Sebastian stomping up the stairs, his bedroom door slamming shortly afterwards.

“He’s such a cliché,” Mark says, shaking his head.

Christian sighs, glancing at the clock. “It’s not too late, why don’t you just go to your party.”

Mark makes a dismissive gesture with his hand. “I’m not in the mood. Why don’t me and you go put something shit on TV so we can shout at it together.”

Christian smiles, closing up the dishwasher. “That sounds like a plan to me.”


	2. Chapter 2

Fernando is already wearing his sunglasses when he opens the door so Mark can tell he missed a good night. He feels a pang of regret; if Fernando’s so hungover he needs to wear sunglasses indoors then he would definitely have been drunk enough for Mark to have kissed him without too much of an argument, or too many consequences.

If he’s honest with himself he’s not sure that’s how he would have wanted their first kiss to go though. Mark’s never been a romantic but this has been three years in the making so if it’s going to happen he would prefer it to be a little more meaningful than that.

“Had a good time then,” he comments.

Fernando groans. “I think so.” He looks at Mark. “You should have come. Lots of people, lots of fun.”

“Mmm,” Mark says. “You get lucky?” he asks, trying to keep his voice casual. It’s the kind of thing he’d ask Jenson after a night out, it’s not an unreasonable question.

“I do not feel very lucky now,” Fernando responds, and Mark feels disappointed that it doesn’t tell him anything one way or another. Fernando sighs, looking at his bags. “And now I have all this to carry.”

Mark crosses his arms over his chest, leaning in the doorway. “Better get moving then, hadn’t you, mate?”

Fernando looks up at him and Mark feels sad that the mirrored shades are keeping the obvious puppy dog eyes out of view. He relents anyway, leaning down to pick up the biggest bag before walking out to his car.

As soon as he starts the engine up, Fernando immediately leans over and turns the radio right down, the quiet making Mark feel awkward.

“So you’ll be back for graduation?” he asks.

“Yes,” Fernando agrees. “We can have at least one party. To celebrate. You will not miss that one.”

“Deal,” Mark smiles. He glances at Fernando. “You going to stick around for a little while?”

“We have no house now,” Fernando points out. “I do not think my parents will pay for the hotel for me after they go back to Spain just so I can get drunk with my friends a few more times.”

“You could stay with me,” Mark offers. Fernando looks at him and Mark suddenly feels like an idiot. “I mean, my parents are pretty cool and we have spare rooms. And a guest house. It’s more like a shed really but my dad built it, it’s cool.”

“A shed,” Fernando repeats, sounding slightly bemused.

“It’s nicer than a shed,” Mark says. “It’s small, but it’s... Never mind.”

He turns onto the motorway and is grateful for the speed, helping him feel a little less restless. As he moves into the fast lane he drums his fingers on the steering wheel, wanting to turn the music up again as a distraction.

“It must be nice to have a father who can build you a house,” Fernando comments.

Mark smiles. “He didn’t build the whole house, he just designed it. I was four when they started working on the place. I remember I used to get him to take me down there to watch the progress. It was so cool, like a giant Lego project. My dad made the best Lego models.”

Fernando gives a soft little laugh, shuffling down in his seat. Mark shifts gears, reducing his speed a little as he feels himself relax.

“We used to live in this little cottage in Oxford,” he continues. “But they wanted another kid and they had money coming in and Adrian’s projects were his life so they figured, why not, let’s build our dream house.” He glances at Fernando. “Sorry, you don’t want my life story. You’ve probably been bored by most of it before anyway.”

“Is fine,” Fernando replies easily. “I like it. You can tell a lot about someone by the way they talk about their mother.”

Mark frowns. “I don’t have a mother.”

Fernando shrugs. “Their parents.” He rests his head against the side of the seat. “Keep talking. Tell me the story.”

“What? So you can fall asleep?” Mark asks.

“Am not sleeping,” Fernando dismisses. “Talk.”

Mark sighs, concentrating on the road for a moment. “I don’t know. We built the house, they adopted Seb, he cried all the time and I wanted to smother him with a pillow.”

“I do not think that is true,” Fernando says, amusement clear in his voice.

“He used to scream the place down, couldn’t stand being alone for five seconds,” Mark remembers. “Which is weird because now he never leaves his room.”

“Hmm,” Fernando responds. “I do not know if I would want to leave a home that someone had built for me.”

“It’s just bricks,” Mark says, but he knows it’s not true. He watched that place turn from a drawing on Adrian’s sketchpad to a real physical thing that existed in the world and even when he eventually does find his own place he’s sure he’ll still feel a little bit homesick for that. “Adrian puts his heart and soul into his projects though,” he says. “Every one of them. That’s why he loves working for himself so much, he can spend all the time in the world on the details.”

“That must be nice,” Fernando comments, though he really does sound half-asleep now.

“Yeah,” Mark agrees. “Christian was the CEO of this company in London when they met. But after they adopted me it just got a bit much, the hours and the commute, he hated it. So they came up with the idea of going into business together. Adrian brings the talent and the passion and Christian runs the business side. They make a great team.”

Fernando makes a noise of acknowledgement and Mark’s sure he’s bored him into unconsciousness now. He smiles, looking over at Fernando to see his head lolling with the movement of the car.

“This was not the conversation I was supposed to be having with you,” he mutters.

“What?” Fernando asks.

Mark feels his face heat. “Nothing. I don’t know.”

Fernando doesn’t respond and when Mark looks over again he’s definitely asleep. Mark sighs, settling in for a long, lonely drive.

With nothing but his own thoughts for company he reflects that talking about his parents makes him realise how proud he is of them. Unfortunately, in his current mood, that only serves to highlight just how directionless his own life has become. He wants to have it all sorted out like they do. But they had to get it wrong before they got it right too, Mark realises, so maybe there is hope for him after all.

When they arrive at the airport, Mark nudges Fernando awake.

“You’re aware that you talk in your sleep, right?” he says.

“What did I say?” Fernando asks, stretching his arms out in front of him.

Mark shrugs. “Spanish.”

Fernando yawns, realising where they are. “This is the drop off area,” he says, turning to Mark. “You are not coming in?”

“You need someone to carry your bags?” Mark asks.

“I thought we were saying goodbye,” Fernando replies.

Mark considers him for a moment, unsure how to interrupt Fernando’s tone, or his intentions. He pulls away from the curb, circling the car park and finding himself a parking spot instead.

They head inside and Mark hangs around the newsstand reading the headlines while Fernando checks in. He returns to Mark, sunglasses pushed up onto his head and carry on bag slung over his shoulder. He looks tired, dark circles under his eyes.

“All set?” Mark asks.

Fernando nods. “I will miss you next year.”

“I’ll be around,” Mark dismisses. “You know me and Jenson can’t spend too long apart, I’ll be over there all the time.”

“Yes,” Fernando agrees. “I hope so.”

“You can count on it,” Mark assures him.

Fernando smiles. “And thank you for your offer of a place to stay,” he says. “I will think about it. If you are sure your parents wouldn’t mind.”

Mark shakes his head. “They’re cool. Can’t have you missing out on all the fun this summer.”

“No,” Fernando agrees with more than a little amusement. “Can’t have that.”

Mark smiles, ducking his head down, feeling suddenly shy. He wants Fernando around but he doesn’t want to look desperate.

“Well,” Fernando says. “I should go. My plane will not wait for me.”

“Good idea,” Mark says. “You take care of yourself, mate. I’ll see you for graduation.”

“You as well,” Fernando tells him. “Be good.”

Mark laughs. “Not likely, mate.”

He offers out his hand but Fernando ignores it and pulls him into a hug. It takes Mark a moment to process what’s going on; the only times this has ever happened before they’ve both been drunk, but he’s not about to lose this chance so he hugs Fernando back, slapping his hand on Fernando’s back in a show of friendship. Fernando doesn’t return the gesture, simply holds onto Mark, pushed up onto his tiptoes in a way that makes Mark feel suddenly ridiculously big and ungainly.

When Fernando finally pulls away after what seems like far too long a moment for it to be just a friends hug, Mark blinks at him, his mind suddenly completely blank to any kind of etiquette or conversational niceties. Fernando looks completely unconcerned. Maybe that’s just how they say goodbye to friends on the continent. They have all those poncey kissing routines over there.

“I will stay in touch,” Fernando promises.

“Right,” Mark says. “Uh, yeah. I’d like that.”

Fernando smiles, something about his expression unreadable to Mark, and then he offers a little wave, heading towards security. Mark watches him as he offers out his bag, empties his pockets, walks through the scanner, remaining where he is until Fernando eventually collects up his belongings, walking out of sight.

Mark pays the extortionate car parking fee and turns his radio right up, hoping to drown out the thoughts that are circling around in his brain. He heads for Jenson’s house, the small ex-council flat feeling almost as much like home as his own house ever has.

John Button was welcoming and always candid, two qualities Mark greatly admired. Jenson’s parents had been having problems more than a decade into their marriage and Jenson was supposed to be the tiny bundle of joy that would change everything. It might have made the relationship last a few more years but shortly after Jenson’s fourth birthday they finally called it quits and John accepted a job offer in Oxford. Jenson lasted about two weeks with his mum and three sisters before deciding he definitely needed a male influence in his life and moving in with his dad. Come September, he and Mark met on their first day at school and had been pretty much inseparable ever since.

“Feel free to drag him out of his pit,” John says, ushering Mark inside the flat.

Mark smiles, going through to Jenson’s room to see him hiding under the duvet, sound asleep. He closes the door softly and then leaps onto the bed, landing heavily on Jenson’s body. Jenson yelps, struggling under him and coming up with an impressive number of swearwords before they finally settle on the bad, squashed up side by side.

“Awww,” Mark coos. “Poor little Jenson got a hangover?” He strokes Jenson’s forehead mockingly.

“Did you fuck him in an airport bathroom,” Jenson counters.

“No,” Mark sighs, his hand falling away.

“Get your Hollywood kiss?”

“Nope,” Mark says. “Not really what I was aiming for though, mate.”

“So,” Jenson prompts.

Mark shrugs. “We hugged. It was... I’m probably reading too much into it.”

“Hmm,” Jenson considers. “Business as usual then.”

“I invited him to come stay with me over the summer,” Mark says. “He said he’d think about it?”

Jenson opens his eyes. “You asked him to stay with you?”

“Just, I don’t know, a place to crash after graduation if he wanted it,” Mark replies.

“Could get interesting,” Jenson comments, closing his eyes again.

Mark shifts on the bed, trying to find a comfortable position. “Your bed is tiny,” he complains.

“Well, we can’t all have daddies who build us castles with ginormous beds,” Jenson responds.

Mark shuffles down until they’re snuggled together, Jenson underneath the covers and Mark on top of them. “And your breath stinks,” he says. Jenson doesn’t respond. Mark sighs. “I miss anything last night then.”

“A good time,” Jenson replies. “Nothing monumental. Fernando showed no signs of opening his legs for anyone.”

“Good,” Mark mutters, realising he sounds ridiculously possessive. Fernando got drunk and became the perfect cliché of dance like no one’s watching but he rarely if ever seemed to hook up. Mark wasn’t sure if his romantic view of Fernando as virtuous was at all justified or if he was just better at hiding it than the rest of them.

“Your breath really stinks,” he complains, nudging Jenson. “Do you have a mint or something?”

He shifts to search through the junk on Jenson’s bedside table, finding some chewing gum and taking a piece out, shoving it in Jenson’s mouth. There’s a burst of minty freshness at first but then Jenson’s jaw stills and Mark’s not sure how much it really helps.

“Mark?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you stroke my forehead again?” Jenson asks. “That was nice.”

Mark smiles to himself, reaching out and brushing his fingers over Jenson’s forehead. Jenson sighs happily, melting down into the bed, and Mark doesn’t stop until he’s sure he’s asleep.

When he gets home he finds Sebastian in the kitchen making a sandwich. “Make me one,” he requests, heading over to the folding doors that are wide open.

“Get lost,” Sebastian tells him.

“I’m starving,” Mark complains. “Jenson was too hungover to offer me lunch.”

“He’s hungover?” Sebastian asks, clearly fishing for information.

“Yeah,” Mark replies. “It’s alright, I gave him a cuddle, he’s feeling much better now.”

Sebastian narrows his eyes at him like he doesn’t know if he’s telling the truth or not before he turns his attention back to his sandwich. Mark smiles to himself, stepping out onto the deck.

Christian is down at the bottom of the garden, rolling around with the dogs on the lawn, but the real surprise is Adrian sat cross-legged on a blanket a little away from him. He has his sketchpad on his knee though so clearly he’s not really taking any time off. Mark jogs down the stairs and across the grass to join them and as he gets closer he sees that it’s not house designs Adrian’s working on, it’s a sketch of Christian.

“Draw me like one of your French girls,” Mark says, sitting down beside him.

“Hello,” Adrian greets, giving him an amused look. Mark smiles at him.

“Did you get Fernando to the airport alright?” Christian asks. “You’ve been gone a long time.”

“I went to see Jenson on the way back,” Mark replies, looking at Adrian’s drawing.

“Of course you did,” Christian says, tickling Flavio behind the ears.

Mark nods at Adrian’s sketchpad. “Did you ever do the whole sexy nude sketch cliché?”

“Once, when we were dating,” Adrian replies. “Do you want me to continue with this story?”

“No, thanks,” Mark responds, lying back on the blanket to look up at the sky, shielding his eyes from the sun. “What’s for lunch?”

“We’ve eaten,” Christian tells him. “Help yourself. You’re a grown up, as you keep telling me.”

Mark rolls his eyes. “I told Seb to make me a sandwich but he wouldn’t.”

“Leave him alone, he’s revising,” Christian says. “He has an exam on Monday morning, he’s worried about it, he doesn’t need you winding him up.”

“I don’t know what he’s so worried about, we all know he’ll ace it,” Mark says. “Little swot.”

“He works hard,” Christian states firmly. “That’s not something that should be discouraged.”

“He takes it a bit to the extreme, don’t you think?” Mark counters.

Christian sighs and Mark knows he’s hit a nerve. Sebastian’s work ethic is a little too close to Adrian’s and Mark feels sorry for Christian, rattling around the big house on his own while they’re both chained to their respective desks. Christian must be worried about Sebastian jumping straight to the recluse stage and missing out the family and kids, not to mention just being a teenager.

“I fed your chickens for you, by the way,” Christian says pointedly.

Mark cranes his head to look at him. “I already fed them before I left. They’ll think you’re fattening them up for the oven.”

“Oh,” Christian says. “I thought you’d probably forgotten about them by now.”

“Nah,” Mark dismisses, sitting up. “More than just a practice run, those little fellas.”

“Maybe you’d like to go clean them out then,” Christian suggests.

“After I eat,” Mark replies, but he gets to his feet anyway, heading towards the corner of the garden with the chicken coop, down the side of the guest house. He spins around, walking backwards as he looks towards Christian and Adrian. “Hey, it’s okay if Fernando stays here for a bit after graduation, right?”

“Yeah, why not, this is basically a hotel,” Christian responds dryly.

Mark grins at him. “Thank you.”

He walks around to the chickens, leaning on the wire fence and watching them peck around on the floor. They were his sixteenth birthday present and he begged for them for six full months. This was before the days when he understood farming was what he wanted to do with his life; he just knew that he loved animals and thought that chickens would be the perfect complement to their country lives.

Christian and Adrian finally relented on the condition that he took total responsibility for their care or they were going straight to the butchers. Mark looked after them every day until he went off to uni and by then Christian had become attached enough to them to take over. If Mark ever gets his farm, he definitely wants to take these guys with him though.

For him this is where it all started and as he watches them now it gives him the first bit of hope he’s had in a long time that maybe he does know where he’s going with his life. If only he could work out how to get there. One thing’s for sure, before he tells his parents the news about his Master’s he needs to have a plan in place for what comes next.


	3. Chapter 3

Mark loves days like this, when there’s not a cloud in the sky and he can have the windows right down, speeding the car along the little country lanes to his house. The smell of the countryside will always be home to him. Jenson, whose own open window is against the hedges at the side of the road, seems less pleased about it.

“Watch out,” he complains when a part of bush springs in through his window. “You’re going to decapitate me at this rate.”

“Stop being so dramatic,” Mark dismisses.

“You nearly had my eye out,” Jenson insists, leaning towards the middle of the car.

“It was a couple of twigs,” Mark says.

“I’m getting my own car and I’m driving you into a hedge,” Jenson says as they pull up outside Mark’s house.

“Good luck with that,” Mark tells him, climbing out of the car. “Just steal one off the forecourt the next time you’re there.”

“Yeah, my dad would love that,” Jenson responds, following Mark into the house. They walk through to the kitchen where Sebastian is looking into the refrigerator. “Seb,” Jenson says with a smile. “How’s it going?”

Sebastian closes the fridge, blushing just from being in the same room as Jenson. “Okay.”

“Mark says you’re in exam hell,” Jenson comments, sitting down at the island.

“Oh, yeah,” Sebastian replies. “I was just revising. But I was going to take a break. For lunch.”

“What’s the next one?” Jenson asks.

“I have biology on Monday,” Sebastian tells him. “Then it’s just three more in the next couple of weeks and I’ll be done by my birthday.”

Mark walks around behind him, ruffling his hair. “Yeah, sweet sixteen, never been kissed.”

“Get off,” Sebastian tells him, giving him a shove.

Jenson laughs. “You having a party?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian replies.

“Are you?” Mark asks.

“Yeah,” Sebastian insists. “I asked, I’m allowed.”

“With who?” Mark asks incredulously.

“I have friends,” Sebastian says, giving him a look.

“Real ones?” Mark asks doubtfully.

“You two are adorable,” Jenson says. “You make me not miss my sisters at all.”

Sebastian turns to face him, moving away from Mark. “You can come if you want. To my party.”

“Jenson doesn’t want to come to your stupid 16th birthday party,” Mark dismisses.

“I might do,” Jenson responds, giving Mark look that’s clearly taking the piss. “I’ve known little Sebi since he was born.”

Mark sees that look pass over Sebastian’s face, the one that shows just what a big chip he has on his shoulder about being adopted, and Mark really doesn’t get why it’s such a sore subject for him. Mark’s never cared; he’d rather be with parents who want him than parents who clearly didn’t.

“Anyway,” Jenson says, hopping down off his stool. “Come sit with us. We can teach you a thing or two about biology.” He bumps his shoulder suggestively against Sebastian before heading towards the folding doors.

“Yeah, come join us,” Mark agrees.

Sebastian looks at him warily. “You don’t mind?”

“Course not,” Mark dismisses. “Just make us a couple of sandwiches and come out.” Sebastian glares at him.

“And I want lemonade,” Jenson calls.

“Jenson wants lemonade,” Mark repeats, giving him a smile before following Jenson out of the door.

Jenson slings his bag down onto the lawn, sitting next to it with a sigh. The dogs are dozing in the shade down at the end of the garden and Mark looks back towards the house as he sits down beside Jenson, looking at the window to Adrian’s study. All this beautiful view and he probably hasn’t glanced out of the window in hours.

“Don’t do your Master’s,” he says to Jenson.

Jenson looks at him, snorting a laugh. “What?”

“Let’s just buy a farm,” Mark says.

“Oh yeah? With what money?” Jenson asks. “We’re up to our necks in uni debts.”

“Doing another year isn’t going to help, is it?” Mark points out. He sighs, lying down. “I don’t want to join the real world.”

“Why do you think I’m doing another year?” Jenson says. He looks down at Mark. “Have you told them yet?”

“I will,” Mark says, no conviction in his voice. They were so proud when he got accepted onto his Master’s programme, he doesn’t think he can bear the looks of disappointment on their faces when he tells them he turned it down.

“Before graduation?” Jenson asks.

Mark shrugs. “Maybe after.”

Jenson rolls his eyes. “You’re just making it worse. Tell them.”

Mark tilts his head back, seeing Sebastian coming towards them with a tray. “Shut up,” he tells Jenson. “Don’t tell the pipsqueak, alright?”

“You know you revert to being a twelve-year-old whenever you’re around him,” Jenson says.

Mark gives him a look as he sits up. Sebastian places the tray down on the grass, sandwiches and crisps and glasses of lemonade. He looks at Mark as if checking he’s really allowed to stay before he sits on the grass.

“You staying on at Bartholomew’s for sixth form?” Jenson asks Sebastian, taking a huge bite out of one of the sandwiches.

Sebastian nods. “Yeah.”

“What A-levels are you doing?”

“Maths, physics and design technology,” Sebastian replies.

“Go on, and then what?” Mark coaxes.

Sebastian looks embarrassed. “I don’t know. I’ll see what grades I get.”

“He’s got it all planned out,” Mark tells Jenson. “He’s going to Oxford Brookes to study motorsport engineering.”

“Maybe,” Sebastian says quietly, looking down. “If I get the grades and if I can get on the course.”

“That sounds awesome,” Jenson enthuses.

Mark rolls his eyes. Flavio has come over to investigate so Mark pulls bits of meat out of his sandwich, feeding them to the dog. He knows it’s pathetic to be jealous of his little brother but Sebastian’s life has always seemed so straightforward and Mark knows he’s going to follow his little plan and get exactly what he wants. Mark knows what he wants too, he just has no idea how to make it happen.

“You shouldn’t do that,” Sebastian says.

Mark looks up at him. “What?”

“Feed him while you’re eating,” Sebastian says. “It encourages him to beg.”

Mark takes out a bigger chunk of meat and gives it to Flavio.

“You should talk to Fernando,” Jenson tells Sebastian. “He’s doing engineering.”

Sebastian frowns. “Fernando from your school? I thought you only learned about milking cows and dry stone walling.”

“Fuck off,” Mark tells him.

“Why are you in such a bad mood all of a sudden?” Jenson asks.

“I’m not,” Mark responds, passing another piece of meat to Flavio. “He’s just a dick.”

“Christian’s going to be mad if you keep doing that,” Sebastian says.

“Where is he anyway?” Mark asks, looking up at him.

“Went to meet some clients,” Sebastian replies. “He said he’d be back this afternoon. Adrian’s here.”

“In body only,” Mark mutters.

“Fernando’s doing a Master’s in agricultural engineering,” Jenson says, clearly trying to steer the conversation back to something safer. “You’ll have to ask him about it.” He turns to Mark. “Is he staying with you guys?”

Mark shrugs. “We’ve text a few times. And he keeps sending me these really long emails. But he hasn’t said.”

Jenson grins. “What do the emails say? Does he tell you what he’s wearing?”

“Not those kinds of emails, mate,” Mark dismisses, but there’s a smile on his face now.

He likes Fernando’s rambling emails telling him everything he’s been up to. There were some photos attached to the latest one, picturesque views from a bike ride he went on with some friends, and it made Mark want to be there, such beautiful scenery all drenched in Spanish sun. There was also one of Fernando in his cycling gear and Mark might have gone to bed early with that one burned firmly into his mind.

Jenson starts talking about the job he has working with his dad over the summer and when he tells a particular story about a mishap with a hosepipe that left him drenched Mark can see Sebastian’s face flush scarlet. Mark finds it adorable, Sebastian’s school boy crush on Jenson, but he knows with all those hormones it’s hardly innocent. It’s fun winding Sebastian up about it but when Jenson’s actually around, sometimes it feels a little bit dangerous.

Still, it’s nice that something has coaxed Sebastian out of his room and away from his textbooks for a while and it’s nice to see him smile so much, even if it is all shy and awkward. It’s just practicing, Mark tells himself, trying out interactions you’re too young for and seeing if you can work out the secrets. Mark did enough of it when he was Sebastian’s age. He’s not sure it really prepared him for life as much as he hoped it would though.

“I need more lemonade,” Jenson announces, holding his glass out towards Mark.

“What, you’ve forgotten where the fridge is?” Mark responds, but he gets to his feet, taking Jenson’s empty glass.

“Me too, please,” Sebastian says, holding out his own glass. Mark raises his eyebrows, showing he’s pushing his luck, but he takes the glass. Sebastian smiles, grateful.

“See if you can find something alcoholic to top mine up with,” Jenson suggests.

“Yeah,” Sebastian agrees. “Me too.”

Mark gives him a look. “You’re revising. Remember?”

“I could have a little,” Sebastian says.

“Not on my fucking watch,” Mark mutters as he heads back into the house.

He fills two glasses with lemonade and then goes through to the sideboard in the living room, opening it up and searching the bottles. Christian and Adrian weren’t the kind of people who entertained often but they were always prepared. Occasionally they had clients over, their house was the greatest CV imaginable, and so they were always fully stocked for all possibilities. Making a good first impression apparently involved guaranteeing you had rich people’s obscure favourite tipples in.

Mark finds the vodka and pours a generous amount into Jenson’s drink, leaving the bottle on the counter. He heads back out into the garden to see Jenson with his shirt off, Sebastian sat behind him rubbing his back and shoulders. There’s a bottle of sun cream on the grass beside them.

“Are you fucking kidding?” Mark asks, giving Jenson an unimpressed look.

“I have very sensitive skin,” Jenson responds. “I don’t want to burn.”

“I’ll fucking burn you in a minute,” Mark tells him.

“What?” Jenson asks and Mark honestly can’t tell if his cluelessness is an act. Sebastian looks embarrassed, moving away.

“Here,” Mark says, practically shoving Jenson’s drink at him. “And a virgin for the virgin,” he adds, holding Sebastian’s lemonade out to him.

“What would you know?” Sebastian mutters moodily, shifting a little further away from Jenson.

“Oh, okay, how many people have you fucked then?” Mark asks.

“I didn’t say that,” Sebastian replies, his face flushed bright red, his head bowed. “I just... You don’t know that.”

“Of course I do,” Mark responds. “You’d have to leave your bedroom, or at least invite someone in there.”

“You’re away at uni all the time, you’ve got no idea what I do,” Sebastian says, looking at him hotly now.

“Stop trying to show off,” Mark dismisses. “You need to go to some parties, get drunk, put your hands down people’s pants. I bet you’ve never even done that, right? How far? Over the pants? Above the waist?”

“Mark.”

He turns at the sound of the stern voice to see Christian walking across the grass towards them, giving him a seriously unimpressed look.

“Stop corrupting your brother,” he says. “Sebastian, he’s full of rubbish, don’t listen to him. You want to talk about sex, you come to me or your father.”

“Yeah, that’s likely,” Mark scoffs.

“I have to go,” Sebastian says, putting his glass down and getting to his feet, looking absolutely mortified. “Revision.”

“Might want to take a cold shower first,” Mark calls after him.

“You, stop it,” Christian tells him, sitting down across from him on the grass. Mark rolls his eyes. “I’m serious, Mark, I don’t want you talking to him like that. He’s fifteen, he doesn’t need to be thinking about sex.”

“He’s fifteen,” Mark returns. “I’m sure he’s thinking about nothing _but_ sex.”

“Then be responsible,” Christian says. “Give him the right advice.”

“He doesn’t listen to me,” Mark dismisses.

“Of course he does,” Christian insists. “You’re his big brother.”

Mark looks down, tugging up shoots of grass. He feels tiny, like a little kid being told off, and he wonders if he’s ever going to grow out of that feeling.

“And why is my vodka out?” Christian asks. Mark jabs his thumb towards Jenson.

“Christian,” Jenson says. “I have a question.”

Christian turns to look at him. “Why are you half-naked in my garden, drinking my vodka?”

“Might not be the best time for this given what you just said, but hear me out,” Jenson requests.

“Go on,” Christian says warily.

“My dad gave me a job at the car dealership over the summer,” Jenson explains. “Earn a bit of extra money before I go back to uni. But he says I’m not qualified to sell cars. I have a degree. He doesn’t have a degree but he can sell cars. He has me washing them and answering phones and doing things you’d get a work experience kid to do.”

“And what would you like me to do about this?” Christian asks.

“Well, I was wondering if you and Adrian needed any help over the summer?” Jenson asks. “Something a little more stimulating. I’m over-qualified to wash cars.”

“Yes, welcome to adult life,” Christian says and Mark feels a horrible sinking feeling.

“So, if anything came up...” Jenson says.

“Jenson, we don’t have the overheads to pay for extra staff, we’re sadly forced to live within our means,” Christian responds.

“You work for super rich people,” Jenson says. “The houses you build...”

“I don’t own the houses,” Christian says. “I just own the blueprints. Sadly they’re not worth nearly as much.”

Jenson sighs. “Guess I’ll just have to work on my tan then.”

“Work on your freckles,” Mark corrects, watching him stretch out on his front.

Christian looks at him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Mark responds with a shrug.

“You can tell me if you’re not,” Christian says.

Mark forces a smile. “I’m okay.”

Christian nods, not looking entirely convinced but clearly letting it drop. “I’ll leave you boys to it then,” he states, getting to his feet. He squeezes Mark’s shoulder as he walks past, a comforting little gesture, and Mark is overcome with the urge to hug him. He squeezes his hand instead, offering a little smile upwards before Christian walks away.

After Jenson leaves, Mark heads upstairs. The do not disturb sign is on Sebastian’s door and Mark hesitates. He knows if he doesn’t do this now he’s never going to get around to it though. He knocks, waiting for a response.

“Yeah?” Sebastian calls.

Mark opens the door, sticking his head around. Sebastian sees that it’s him and holds his finger up, motioning for him to wait as he looks back down at his textbook. Mark steps into the room, closing the door behind himself while Sebastian finishes his paragraph. He looks up at Mark.

“What?” he asks warily.

Mark shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets as he moves further into the room. “Don’t rush it.”

Sebastian frowns. “Rush what?”

“Sex,” Mark responds.

Sebastian goes red again. “I wasn’t going to,” he says quietly, looking back down at his textbook.

“Good,” Mark agrees.

Sebastian’s room looks more like a study than a bedroom. The large desk is the main feature along with the bookcases filled with academic texts and non-fiction books. Mark kind of suspects he’s never read a novel in his life. The bed itself is built above one of the bookcase structures, almost like an afterthought. Mark sits down on the little wooden steps leading up to it.

“Do you, uh,” Sebastian begins awkwardly. “Do you have sex, like, all the time at uni then?”

“Not _all_ the time,” Mark responds. “Sometime I have lectures and things.” Sebastian smiles, genuine and amused, and Mark smiles back at the sight of it. He shrugs. “Not that much. Sometimes. Probably more than I should.” He sighs. “I don’t know. No more than anybody else I don’t think. But I’ve never really done the whole relationship thing so it all feels kind of out of context.”

“Huh,” Sebastian says, looking thoughtful, and Mark suddenly feels far too exposed. Sebastian can be irritatingly perceptive. Luckily for Mark, he chooses not to pass judgement.

“But listen,” Mark says, getting to his feet again. “I’m telling you something only Jenson knows about me, alright? This is privileged information.”

“Alright,” Sebastian agrees.

“I didn’t lose it until after I went to uni,” Mark says. “A couple of months into my first year. I was really drunk and I can’t even remember if his name was Tim or Tom and I am hideously embarrassed about that fact. So, y’know, don’t rush it.”

Sebastian nods, looking down at his textbook. Mark heads to the door. “So you regret it?”

Mark spins back around to face him. He thinks he probably doesn’t remember enough about it to regret it, but that should probably be a regret in itself.

“It’s... Sex isn’t that big a deal at the end of the day. It’s messy and kind of gross but it feels really good at the time. But, yeah, I probably wish it had been a little more meaningful. I’m not going to sugar-coat it and tell you you should wait for true love or anything. Wait until you want to do it more than you don’t want to do it.”

Sebastian nods again, frowning in concentration.

“Fuck it, I’m a terrible role model,” Mark says, shaking his head. “Do what you want, you’re way smarter than me.”

Sebastian shakes his head. “I’m not ready. I’m really not.” He looks up at Mark. “But thanks. That helps. Hearing your experiences.”

“Quickest way to get something right is to watch Mark do it wrong first,” Mark shrugs, opening the door.

“I’ve never thought that,” Sebastian says. “Just for the record.”

Mark smiles at him, raising his eyebrows as he closes the door behind himself.


	4. Chapter 4

Mark finds Sebastian in the kitchen, eating a bowl of cereal at the island. He slides the present along the counter towards him.

“Happy birthday, loser.”

Sebastian gives him a weary look and then frowns down at his gift. “Did you wrap this with your feet?”

“You want me to take it back?” Mark threatens.

“No,” Sebastian says quickly, grabbing hold of it and tearing at the paper. For a moment he looks like an excited kid and Mark can’t help but smile. Once he has the wrapping off he turns the box over in his hands, studying the picture of the model racing car on the front.

“I don’t know if you still do those,” Mark shrugs, turning to get himself a cup of coffee. “You’ve probably grown out of it, but I thought you’d need something to do with your time now your exams are out of the way.”

“I, uh, I haven’t,” Sebastian replies, still looking down at the model. “Not for a while. But this is great, thanks.” He smiles, looking genuinely pleased.

Model making was a hobby of his when he was a kid and he still has a shelf in his room with all the cars and planes he worked so carefully on. Mark could never understand how he had the patience; he was always running around outside or off with Jenson exploring the country lanes on their bikes. Sebastian was much more of a loner though, forever locked away in his bedroom with some activity, and Mark wonders belatedly if he should really have given him a gift that encourages such behaviour.

He leans against the other side of the island with his cup of coffee. “What did the parental units get you then?”

Sebastian puts the box down in front of him with a shrug. “Books. Money.”

“Thrilling,” Mark says dryly.

“I didn’t know what to ask for,” Sebastian says, sounding a little embarrassed.

“Lucky you’ve got a big brother who’s so perceptive then,” Mark says with a wink, straightening up and heading for the door.

“Mark,” Sebastian calls. Mark stops, spinning around to face him. “Can I ask you a favour?”

Mark raises his eyebrows, intrigued. He heads back over. “Go on.”

“You’ll be at my party tonight, right?” Sebastian asks. “You and Jenson are still coming?”

“As far as I know,” Mark agrees, wondering not for the first time if Jenson was the only guest Sebastian was really interested in attending his party.

“Christian said we can have alcohol but only a little, he said he’ll buy some cider or something,” Sebastian explains.

“Alcopops,” Marks says.

“Probably,” Sebastian agrees, rolling his eyes.

“You want me to get you the good stuff?” Mark asks. “Because Christian might actually kill me.”

“No,” Sebastian dismisses. “Well, maybe. But Christian says there needs to be an adult present. He wants to hang around the whole time. Can you imagine how embarrassing that’s going to be? He’s so uncool.”

“Right, and you’re The Fonz,” Mark states sarcastically, taking a step away again. His interest in this conversation was starting to wear thin.

“Well, I’m not, am I?” Sebastian snaps and it’s the first time Mark’s ever heard him care about popularity or friends. “You think my dad hanging around at my birthday party monitoring all the booze is going to help?”

Mark sighs, leaning against the counter. “So what do you want me to do?”

“You’re a grown up,” Sebastian says. “You could supervise. Tell him you’ll keep an eye on everything, that he doesn’t have to come.”

“I’m not a grown up,” Mark dismisses. “Certainly not in his eyes.”

“You’re in your twenties,” Sebastian says.

“He doesn’t trust me,” Mark insists, shaking his head. “He trusts you more than he trusts me.”

“Why do you have to play the black sheep all the time?” Sebastian asks, clearly irritated.

Mark frowns at him. “What?”

“You got a good degree,” Sebastian says. “You’re doing a Masters programme. Why do you have to act like you’re such a fuck up all the time? You’re really not.”

Mark stares down into his coffee. “You don’t know the half of it.”

Sebastian gives a little huff. “Can you help me?”

Mark looks up at him. “I wasn’t really planning on staying for that long.”

“Please,” Sebastian implores with wide eyes. “When do I ever ask you for anything?”

Mark sighs, rolling his eyes. “Fine. I’ll ask. That doesn’t mean he’s going to agree.”

“He’s with Adrian in his study,” Sebastian says, looking at him hopefully.

“You owe me one,” Mark tells him, picking up his cup of coffee and heading out of the room. He knocks on the partly open door to Adrian’s study, Christian and Adrian inside looking over some house plans. “Hey.”

“Good morning,” Christian greets. “Have you said happy birthday to your brother yet?”

“I just gave him his present,” Mark replies, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice.

“Did you manage to get a smile out of him?” Christian asks. “I think he might be nervous about his party tonight.”

“Yeah, about that,” Mark begins. “Me and Jenson are going to be here all night so there’s no need for you to hang around if you don’t want.”

“You and Jenson?” Christian asks, raising his eyebrows. “God knows what you two get up to when you’re away at uni. I dread to think.”

“We can watch a few sixteen year olds,” Mark insists. “These are Sebastian’s friends, they’re not likely to be party animals.”

“How am I going to explain it to their parents if things get out of hand and there was no one here to watch them?” Christian asks.

“ _I’m_ here,” Mark states, getting increasingly annoyed. “I can handle it.”

“That restaurant in the village has reopened,” Adrian comments, not looking up from his sketches. “Under new management. Did you notice that?”

Christian looks at him, face creased in confusion. “What?”

“Maybe we could try it out,” Adrian suggests.

Christian sags slightly. “Tonight?” he guesses.

Adrian shrugs and looks up at Mark, offering him a small smile. Mark can’t help but grin back at him. Christian turns back to Mark.

“We’ll stay out until eleven,” he agrees reluctantly.

“Eleven?” Mark asks incredulously. “One.”

“Where do you think we’re going to go until one o’clock in the morning, Mark?” Christian asks.

“The Plush Lounge?” Mark suggests, naming Oxford’s only gay club, one where he and Jenson had got themselves into more than a little trouble over the years. “Or get a cheap hotel room and pretend you just met.”

“We’ll be back by midnight,” Christian tells him, looking completely unamused. “And if anything gets broken you’re paying for it.”

“Deal,” Mark agrees, though in reality if anything gets broken Sebastian was most definitely paying for it.

The first people to arrive are the twins, Daniel and Jean-Eric. Sebastian looks disappointed; he probably invited his cousins more out of a sense of loyalty than anything else. They all go to the same school but Sebastian is a year ahead and Mark knows that when you're a teenager, things like that matter.

On the kitchen counter are the small amount of low alcoholic beverages that Christian okayed for the party. Mark watched him earlier emptying out the liquor cabinet and locking the bottles away in Adrian's study before slipping the key into his pocket. Sebastian stands in the kitchen, frowning at a bottle of cider. Mark feels sorry for him.

"Right," Christian says. "We're going out. Be good and try not to burn the house down."

The words are directed more at Mark than they are at Sebastian and Mark tries very hard to bite his tongue.

"Have fun," Adrian adds, giving Christian a look.

"Yes," Christian agrees almost reluctantly. "Enjoy yourselves."

Adrian has to practically push him out of the door to get him to leave. As soon as the front door closes, Daniel jumps to his feet.

"Let's get this party started," he says, heading towards the stereo. "I brought my MP3 player."

"I'm sorry," Jean-Eric tells Sebastian. "I tried to hide it. Twice."

"You need new hiding places," Daniel tells him as loud punk metal starts to play over the speakers. "I found all your porn."

"It's less disgusting than yours," Jean-Eric returns, completely nonplussed.

Sebastian blushes, opening the bottle of cider and pouring himself a glass. He swigs it experimentally and Mark wonders just how much experience he has with alcohol. Mark got drunk for the first time when he was thirteen, him and Jenson sitting in Jenson's bedroom while his dad was at work, sharing a cheap bottle of vodka between them. At first it was gross and then it was funny and then they both felt like the room was spinning and Mark threw up on the carpet. He wasn't allowed back to Jenson's house for two weeks after that. As he watches Sebastian sipping his cider he suspects he hasn't had that experience yet.

Sebastian's friends start showing up soon and luckily someone changes the music to something slightly more bearable. The one person who doesn't turn up is Jenson and Mark finds himself getting increasingly wound up. He was the one who said they should go to Sebastian's party in the first place and as time ticks on Mark becomes increasingly worried that he's not going to turn up at all. If he doesn't arrive soon, Mark is definitely going to kill him.

_To: Jenson_  
From: Mark  
21:14  
Where the fuck are you??? 

Mark wanders around the house, checking on things while he sips the cheap cider that would take about a million years to get him drunk, but there's really nothing worth keeping an eye on. Mark has never seen most of these kids before but he can tell they're not trouble. They're probably all little goody two shoes like Sebastian and Mark kind of wants to break into Adrian's study and get the real alcohol out just to see what would happen.

_To: Mark_  
From: Jenson  
21:27  
On my way! What, you can't live without me for a couple of hours? 

_To: Jenson_  
From: Mark  
21:28  
I'm dying a slow death here, mate. Hurry the fuck up. 

Mark settles himself on the windowsill in the living room and watches Sebastian across the room. It's fascinating watching the way he interacts with his peers. Gone is the moody, withdrawn Sebastian that Mark is so used to seeing lately. Around his friends he's shy but that little spark is there, that cheeky smile that Mark used to hate when they were growing up because everyone fell instantly in love with it, like Sebastian being perfect at everything wasn't enough to get him all the attention anyway. Mark doesn't begrudge him that smile now though; he just wishes he'd use it a little more often.

Jenson finally arrives in typically dramatic fashion like everyone has been waiting for him and Mark really wants to murder him. Jenson grins at him and then approaches Sebastian, pulling him into a hug that Sebastian looks both embarrassed by and really grateful for.

"Happy birthday," he says. "I got you something."

He holds up a small box and then heads into the kitchen where the music isn't quite so loud. Sebastian glances at his friends before following and Mark is definitely not about to leave those two alone when Sebastian has a couple of ciders inside him. Jenson places the little box on the island and Mark recognises it instantly as Sebastian starts to carefully open it up. He smiles at the elaborately decorated cupcake inside.

"Is that from the bakery in Cirencester?" Mark asks accusingly.

"They're the best cupcakes in the world," Jenson tells Sebastian.

"You went all the way to Cirencester for a cupcake?" Mark persists.

"It's not that far," Jenson dismisses.

"You don't have a car," Mark says. "It's two buses and a train."

"I had to pick up some stuff from uni," Jenson shrugs, looking a bit defensive. "Not like you were going to be taking me."

Sebastian looks between them and Mark shuts his mouth. Sebastian turns to Jenson. "Thank you."

"I can't believe you went all that way for a fucking cupcake," Mark mutters.

"I didn't," Jenson insists. He reaches into his bag, pulling out a bottle of vodka. "Maybe this will cheer you up."

Mark sighs. "We can't drink that, we're supposed to be chaperones."

"Sebi's being a good boy, right?" Jenson says, looking to Sebastian for confirmation. "He doesn't need a babysitter."

Sebastian eyes the bottle. "Can I have some?"

"Definitely," Jenson grins.

Mark grabs the bottle. "Stick to the cider, Seb."

"Oh come on, like you weren't doing it at my age," Sebastian complains. Mark looks at the bottle, pursing his lips together. "What?" Sebastian asks.

"I'm just wondering which of his current building projects Christian is going to bury me in the foundations of if I let you touch this stuff," Mark says.

"It's his birthday," Jenson says, putting his arm around Sebastian's shoulder. "I know you're basically a mini-Christian, but don't get old before your time."

Mark gives him an unimpressed look before turning his attention to Sebastian. "You can have one drink. And I'm making it. Go grab some coke or something."

Mark and Jenson stay in the kitchen, Mark sitting himself where he can see through into the living room, content they're not destroying anything. He has a feeling if he's hanging over Sebastian's shoulder he'll be just as embarrassing as Christian would be. When he spies Sebastian dancing in the middle of the room with some of his friends he suspects he's had more of the vodka than Mark allowed though. He's never seen Sebastian dance in his life.

"He's got some moves," Jenson comments.

"He really doesn't," Mark says, shaking his head.

Jenson grins. "Maybe I should go show him some."

Mark grabs his arm, giving him a look. "Can you just cool it with Seb, please?"

"What?" Jenson asks, looking genuinely bewildered, and Mark honestly can't tell if he has any idea what effect he has on Sebastian.

"Nothing, mate," he dismisses. "Just act your age."

"Where's the fun in that?" Jenson responds.

Mark rests his elbow on the counter, propping his chin up on his hand as he watches Sebastian moving around to the music like he's having more fun than he's ever had in his life. He's kind of jealous. Jenson will still get to do that next year. And Fernando. Mark supposes his drunken nights of humiliating himself are probably almost over now.

"At our graduation party next week I'm going to get so drunk I won't be able to stand up," he declares.

Jenson looks at him. "Then how are you going to fuck Fernando?"

Mark feels himself sag. "I'm playing the long game. The really really long game. By the time we're thirty, I'll definitely be nearly ready for our first kiss."

Jenson snorts a laugh. "I'm just going to lock you two in a room with some lube and condoms and see what happens."

"Please do that," Mark responds.

Sebastian bounds into the room, practically crashing into the counter. "Hey!"

"Hey," Jenson echoes, looking far too amused.

"I love my party," Sebastian enthuses. "It's the best party ever."

"Yeah, it looks like it," Mark agrees.

The smile fades from Sebastian's face as he looks around the room. "Now that I've stopped moving, I feel kind of like I'm on a boat. Do you feel like you're on a boat?"

Mark gives a huff, getting to his feet. "You need some fresh air," he says, steering Sebastian towards the folding doors that are open onto the deck, the summer evening air still warm. "Sit," he directs, shoving Sebastian towards the wooden chairs. "I'll get you some water."

Jenson starts to stand up. "Do you want me to..."

"Stay where you are," Mark tells him. "Or go keep an eye on things in there."

He fills a glass with water, grateful when Jenson goes through to the living room out of the way. Sebastian has his knees drawn up to his chest, giving a pathetic little groan.

"Mark," he says, looking up at him. "I don't feel very well."

"Sip this," Mark tells him, handing over the glass of water.

Sebastian takes a single sip and then shoves the glass back at Mark, putting his feet down on the floor like he's about to bolt. He doesn't move though, just stares down at the decking while he takes uneven breaths.

"Are you okay?" Mark asks.

"I think I'm going to throw up," Sebastian responds.

Marks puts the glass down and gets to his feet, pulling Sebastian with him. They barely make it into the downstairs bathroom before Sebastian is sick, managing to get at least most of it into the toilet. He slumps over it, groaning.

"Mark?"

"Yeah, I'm here," Mark says, sitting down next to him on the floor and rubbing his back. "You're okay."

Sebastian braces himself against the seat and throws up again, ending with a sad little whimper. Mark tears off some toilet roll and passes it to him to wipe his mouth. The door opens and Mark is ready to tell whoever it is to piss off when Christian sticks his head around the door. Mark looks at his watch and sees that it's after midnight. _Fuck._

Christian looks between the two of them, taking in the scene, before he opens his mouth to speak, but Mark silences him by putting a finger to his own lips. Sebastian would be devastated if he knew that Christian could see him like this. Mark's sure he's about to be given a lecture on being responsible when you're in charge but it can wait until Sebastian's sorted out first. Christian nods his agreement and leaves the room, closing the door softly behind himself. Sebastian throws up again and Mark rubs his back, finding it impossible not to be drawn in by the pathetic noises he makes.

When Sebastian finally seems to have emptied himself of everything he's consumed within during the course of the evening Mark hauls him to his feet, knowing he needs to get to bed and sleep it off. The house is quiet now, the other guests clearly dismissed, and as Mark guides Sebastian through the hallway he sees Christian watching them from the kitchen. He deposits Sebastian on the stairs and goes towards the doorway.

"Mark," Sebastian calls out.

"Shut up," Mark says irritably. "I'll be back in a minute. Just don't throw up again or I'll kill you." He steps through into the kitchen where Christian is loading glasses into the dishwasher. "The bathroom's kind of a mess," Mark tells him. "I'll come back down and sort it out when I've got him to bed."

Christian shakes his head. "I'll do it. You look after him."

Mark looks at him for a moment. "I don't mind. I'll clean it up."

"Look after your brother," Christian insists. "You're doing a good job. And I see you've learnt from your own escapades. You made sure he threw up on tile not carpet."

Mark's lips quirk into a smile. "Well, when you learn from mistakes you get to call them experience."

"You certainly do," Christian agrees. "I'm glad you were here to keep an eye on him tonight."

Mark kind of wants to point out that Sebastian probably wouldn't be in that state if Mark wasn't the one watching him but he decides not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Instead he offers Christian a grateful nod and goes to collect Sebastian from where he's melted into the stairs.

He's definitely not about to try and negotiate getting Sebastian up into his own bed above the bookcase right now so he steers him to one of the guest rooms, the one with the twin beds. He throws Sebastian into one of them, going to fetch a glass of water and some painkillers to place on the bedside table.

"Mark," Sebastian says, squinting at him. "I think I'm dying."

"You're not dying," Mark dismisses. "It'll feel like it, probably for the next 24 hours at least, but you're not dying. You're fine."

He grabs the bin and places it on the floor by Sebastian's head, hoping he'll have enough about him to at least try and aim if he needs to throw up again in the night. He gets undressed and climbs into the other bed, resigning himself to the task of keeping an eye on Sebastian.

"Mark."

"Go to sleep," Mark tells him, closing his own eyes. 

"I threw up Jenson's cupcake," Sebastian says sadly.

Mark snorts a laugh. "Never tell him that. He'll be heartbroken."

"Mark," Sebastian says again.

"Sleep," Mark insists.

He waits, expecting Sebastian to continue regardless, but he soon hears soft snores coming from the other bed. He sighs, rolling onto his back. He has a feeling sleep won't be coming quite so easily for him.


	5. Chapter 5

As Mark watches Christian place bottles of wine and "sophisticated" spirits onto the counter he knows that this must be a "grown-up's" party. Too many air quotes; too many expectations.

He sighs, leaning against the island, and wonders when feeling like an adult is going to finally kick in. He thought maybe it would happen when he moved out to go live in Halls his first year of university, or maybe when he got his first student house in the second year, or maybe when he graduated. He's donning the cap and gown today though and he's never felt more lost and childish and he doesn't even feel like he can talk about it with his parents because he's supposed to have this all worked out by now. He's supposed to know what the fuck he's doing with his life.

Christian turns to look at him, taking in his defeated posture and miserable expression. "Are you nervous?" he asks.

Mark stares at him. He has no idea how to explain how terrified he is or the fact that it has nothing to do with going up on a stage and accepting a diploma. Once he takes that piece of paper it's all over, university officially a part of his past, and the pressure is seriously on for him to get his shit together.

"I'm fine," he shrugs.

"I know you hate formal occasions, Mark, but today is about celebration," Christian says. "Enjoy it."

Mark nods, forcing a smile onto his face.

Christian leans against the opposite side of the island, coming down to Mark's level. "You'll do great," he says earnestly, reaching across to put his hand on Mark's arm. "We're proud of you."

Mark feels his eyes sting, his face threatening to crumple, because they wouldn't be, not if they knew the truth. He looks down at Christian's hand, the words on the tip of his tongue, and he knows it will ruin everything today if he tells the truth now but he feels like the worst person in the world for lying. He opens his mouth to speak when Sebastian comes into the room in a whirl of huffing and hormones.

"Would you look at him," he exclaims, gesturing behind Mark.

Christian takes his hand away, straightening up, and Mark suddenly feels very alone. He turns to see Adrian wearing his colourful striped bowtie and he can't resist the smile that pulls at his lips.

"Looking sharp, Adrian."

"You're not embarrassed to be seen with him like that?" Sebastian asks.

"Well, you're the one that has to sit next to him all day," Mark points out. "So, no, I'm fine with it." Sebastian rolls his eyes, giving another huff. "Hey, no one's making you come," Mark says.

"They are," Sebastian responds, jabbing his finger towards their parents.

"Yeah, well, if you're going to act like this all day I'd rather you not bother," Mark tells him.

"Sebastian, tone down the dramatics," Christian says wearily, walking towards Adrian. "You're sixteen going on sixty, try and act like the sixty for a couple of hours."

Sebastian looks incredibly pissed off. Mark knows he's not a spoilt brat but he's pretty used to being the apple of their eye, the high achiever of the family, and Mark feels smug that Christian's letting him know in no uncertain terms that Mark is the special one today. It makes the guilt gnaw away at him all the more insistently though.

"He wants to come," Christian tells Mark. "He's proud of you too."

Weirdly Mark believes him, even though Sebastian is about twenty times smarter than Mark and usually acts like he can't stand him.

Christian reaches up and straightens Adrian's bowtie, Adrian leaning down to brush a kiss against his lips.

"Gross," Sebastian complains, crinkling his nose and looking away. Mark just smiles. It gives him a little glow to see them being affectionate.

There is a knock at the door and Mark goes to answer it, ushering Jenson and John inside. Christian strides across the room to greet John with a firm handshake and Mark loves that he's still kind of that badass business guy, even if it's been twenty years since he's worked in the cut-throat city. Adrian is much more subdued, a warm and heartfelt handshake the limit of his social skills. He spends more time with pencils than he does people.

"Hey, Jenson," Sebastian greets from where he's leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. "I like your shirt."

"Don't scrub up too bad yourself," Jenson responds. Mark elbows him in the ribs.

"Can I interest you in a tipple before we go?" Christian offers to John.

"I shouldn't," John responds. "Even if it is tempting before I have to face the ex."

"I'm getting so much money today," Jenson gushes loudly to Mark. "Divorced parents are the best."

"You are about to be in a world of trouble," John warns him.

"Mum's giving me a big cheque today," Jenson tells him. "And there's going to be cash in all the cards from my sisters."

"And I'm going to have to put up with them fawning over you all day like you're incapable of doing anything for yourself," John says.

"He pretty much is," Mark points out, walking around the island.

"Maybe I will have that drink," John considers.

"Seb, you want some vodka?" Mark offers.

Sebastian's face goes instantly pale. "Get lost."

Mark grabs the bottle, opening it up and wafting it near Sebastian so that he catches a whiff. Sebastian grimaces and moves away, shoving Mark as he goes.

"Stop it, Mark," Christian tells him. "Let's not have people throwing up in the kitchen, it's unhygienic."

John shakes his head. "Seems like only yesterday you were down here and now you're having bad experiences with alcohol?"

"They grow up so fast," Christian says dryly.

"Tell me about it," John responds, putting his arm roughly around Jenson so that he's practically got him in a headlock. "This one's my baby and I'm losing him already."

"Losing me?" Jenson asks incredulously. "Come on. Me, you and the bachelor pad forever." He puts his hand up for a fist bump and John gives him a shove like he's an idiot but still complies.

Mark knows that he means it; Jenson would be perfectly happy if the rest of his life was basically him, John and their ex-council flat. It makes Mark feel guilty that he wants so badly to get out of his parents' house. It's not that he hates it there but his ambitions are bigger than sitting in someone else's dream come true. This is never going to be enough for him.

He's glad when it's finally time to leave for the university and he doesn't have to put up with all the small talk layered with so many expectations. He has an excuse to get away from his parents for a while and catch up with some of the friends he hasn't seen since the end of term. It's nice to be around people who know the score with him but it's still embarrassing to admit that he doesn't really know what he's doing.

"I'm just enjoying my summer for now, mate," he lies, putting on his best smile.

The ceremony itself is a lot less painful than he expects. Fernando is one of the first to go up, Jenson not far behind him. Mark has to wait, fidgeting restlessly with his hands, until a third of the alphabet goes past before they finally call his name.

"Mark Horner-Newey."

He feels a flush at the sound of his name, all of it suddenly becoming real. He's proud, he realises, incredibly proud, because he achieved something and not continuing next year doesn't take anything away from that. He can worry about the future another day. Right now he wants to revel in this moment and he can't keep the smile off his face.

He catches Jenson's eye as he walks across the stage, just like Jenson caught Mark's when it was his turn, and it seems almost unthinkable that next year they won't be doing absolutely everything together anymore. He and Jenson have been attached at the hip for as long as he can remember and he's not sure what he's going to do without him there beside him.

When it's over he finds Fernando striding over to him, pulling him into a hug that's a little too tight. He hugs him back, slapping him on the back, Jenson raising his eyebrows at him as he approaches. Mark rolls his eyes in response.

"We did it," Fernando exclaims as he pulls away.

"We did," Mark agrees, unable to keep the grin off his face.

"I think we will have fun this week," Fernando says.

"I think you will," Jenson agrees suggestively. Fernando smiles at him and pulls him into a hug but Mark's sure it's much briefer than the one they just shared.

"You are sure your parents do not mind?" Fernando asks, turning his attention back to Mark.

"They're cool," Mark shrugs. "Don't worry about it."

"I think that I should meet them first," Fernando says. "I do not want them to think I just assume."

"Meeting the parents," Jenson comments. "Big step."

"Don't you have four women waiting to make a ridiculous fuss over you?" Mark asks pointedly.

"Yes I do," Jenson grins. "Meeting at yours later, right?"

"Definitely, mate," Mark agrees.

Jenson nods. "See you there." He claps Mark on the shoulder before going in search of his family.

Mark casts his own eyes around, looking for his parents. He spies Christian across the large room stood by himself, clearly checking the voicemails on his phone because it is a business day after all. Mark turns back to Fernando.

"You sure you want to do the big introduction thing?" he asks. "Bit weird."

"Why is weird?" Fernando asks, his forehead creasing slightly.

Mark shrugs, leading the way. As soon as Christian notices him approaching he abandons his phone, shoving it into his pocket. He's radiating with pride, his expression one that Mark's certain he hasn't seen since he got his A-level results three years ago and got accepted into university in the first place. He doesn't hold it against Christian; he doesn't do many things that are remarkable.

"Congratulations," Christian says, pulling him into a hug while he beams at him. "We're so proud of you."

"Yeah, you said," Mark replies, feeling awkward.

"Well, it bears repeating," Christian says, still grinning at him.

"This is Fernando," Mark says, gesturing toward him.

"It is very nice to meet you, Mr. Horner-Newey," Fernando says, offering his hand to shake.

"It's just Horner," Christian responds, accepting the handshake. "We didn't swap names when we got married. We just gave both names to the kids."

"Is Spanish naming tradition," Fernando tells him. "Is good."

"Oh," Christian says. "Well, there you go."

Mark's always kind of hated his name, hated how upper class it makes him sound, especially on paper. People see his name and automatically assume he's about a hundred times posher than he actually is. He knows he has a nice house and enough money to live comfortably but he's really not as rich as people often seem to think he is. His parents worked for everything they have and even the house was a labour of love. He likes Fernando's take on his name though, likes that they have   
something in common.

"I didn't know you were Alonso Diaz," he says.

"I only use Alonso," Fernando says with something like a shrug. "But yes, I have both." He offers Mark a little smile before turning his attention back to Christian. "It is very kind of you to allow me to stay with you, Mr. Horner," he says. "I am very grateful."

"You know, it's just Christian," he says. "And you're very welcome. I wouldn't turn away a friend of Mark's."

"Where's Adrian and Seb?" Mark asks.

"They went to find some drinks," Christian replies. "I think Seb's feeling a bit restless."

"Yeah, well, he thinks he deserves a doctorate by now, he was probably wondering why they didn't call his name out," Mark says.

"One step at a time," Christian responds.

"Yeah," Mark sighs. That's exactly how it's going to work for Sebastian, following through on his meticulously thought out plan, never getting ahead of himself and never getting lost along the way. "Are we leaving soon?" he asks.

"I thought you might want to spend some time with your friends," Christian says.

"I'll see them tonight," Mark replies.

"We can go whenever you want," Christian tells him.

Mark nods, turning to Fernando. "You have the address, right? If you use satnav it'll tell you it's a private road but it's fine. Come around whenever. Jenson will be there before we go out too."

"Thank you," Fernando tells him.

"And your parents are coming?" Christian asks. "We have drinks and nibbles."

"I think they might come for one, to see that I am in safe hands," Fernando responds. "Thank you very much, I really appreciate it."

"It's no problem, you're very welcome," Christian assures him.

Fernando smiles at him before turning to Mark. "I will see you tonight."

"See you there, mate," Mark agrees.

"He's very polite," Christian comments after he's walked away.

"You think I don't have polite friends?" Mark asks, picking up on his tone.

"To be fair, Jenson's the benchmark as far as your friends go," Christian responds.

Mark rolls his eyes. "Just call Adrian and tell him we're leaving."

The house isn't quiet for long before Jenson shows up with his whole family and a serious dent is made in the alcohol. Mark likes the atmosphere. It feels kind of like Christmas, all of them together and jolly and talking over each other. Mark knows Jenson has always been more than content to have grown up in his dad's care but Mark thinks he must miss all this noise and energy sometimes.

By the time Fernando and his parents show up, Mark's worried things might be starting to get a little too rowdy. Fernando's parents seem relaxed as they're introduced to the group though and Mark's not sure how much English they understand, Fernando translating certain parts of the conversation for them before he, Mark and Jenson head through to the kitchen where it's quieter.

"We will share a bottle of wine?" Fernando asks, looking over the selection of reds on the counter.

"Share?" Mark asks. "I want a whole bottle to myself, mate. And then I want another one."

"And then we will be picking you up off the floor," Fernando states.

"That's the plan," Mark agrees.

"No, we will enjoy it and we will share," Fernando says, no room for argument in his voice as he reaches for the corkscrew.

_Whipped_ Jenson mouths at Mark while Fernando's back is turned.

_Fuck off_ Mark mouths back.

Jenson chuckles and then turns to leave the room. Fernando pours two glasses of wine, handing one to Mark.

"To us," Fernando says, offering his glass up in a toast.

"Us?" Mark asks, finding it suddenly hard to swallow.

"The class of 2013," Fernando clarifies.

"Oh," Mark says, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice. "Right." He clinks his glass with Fernando who seems suddenly distracted.

"Where is Jenson?"

"Oh, uh." Mark gestures vaguely towards the living room.

Fernando shrugs, taking a sip of his wine, but it doesn't feel much like a toast anymore. Mark puts his glass down on the counter, playing with the stem.

"This is a very nice house," Fernando says, looking around the kitchen. "You must be very proud of your parents."

Mark can't help the little smile that comes over his lips. He really is. He looks up at Fernando. "Do you want to see the guest house?"

"I'd love to," Fernando replies.

"Grab your stuff," Mark instructs, waiting for Fernando to retrieve his bag from the hallway before ushering him towards the folding doors.

"Where are you going?"

Mark turns to see Christian and Adrian coming into the kitchen carrying plates and glasses. "Just showing Fernando where he's staying."

"You better mean the tree house because if you think I'm letting you two shack up in the guest house all week you have another thing coming," Christian states.

Mark feels his cheeks flare red. "What?"

"Christian," Adrian says, his voice more than a little condescending. "He's nearly twenty-one years old, he's been living on his own for three years, what exactly do you think he's been doing in all that time? I think it might be a little bit too late to tell him he's not allowed boys in his room."

Mark shrinks away, wishing a hole would open up and swallow him. He appreciates Adrian for trying to defend him but he somehow manages to be even more mortifying than Christian's original disproval.

"Yes, well, under my roof is slightly different," Christian tells Adrian quietly.

"I built the guest house," Adrian points out. "That's my roof." He turns to Mark and Fernando. "You have fun boys."

"I do not want to cause any trouble," Fernando says.

"It's no trouble," Christian dismisses, shaking his head and forcing a smile. "Adrian's right. The guest house is for guests after all."

"Only if you are sure," Fernando says uncertainly.

"Positive," Christian insists. "Like I said before, you're very welcome here. Mark just wasn't very clear on the sleeping arrangements," he says pointedly.

"I'm not sleeping out there with him," Mark says incredulously. "I just thought he might want a bit of space away from my moody little brother and you two. Can't imagine why." Christian looks embarrassed. Mark gives a huff, turning around. "Come on," he tells Fernando.

The guest house is small but Mark's always thought of it as cosy. It has a double bed, a window seat looking out over the garden, a little kitchenette area for making breakfast, a shower room that Adrian stocked with hotel toiletries. It's basically a stationary caravan but it's nicely decorated and finished so it gives the impression of something much more impressive.

"Is nice," Fernando comments as Mark flicks the lights on. He wanders around, putting his bag down on the bed.

"Sorry about them," Mark says, sitting down by the window and trying to resist the urge to bury his head in his hands.

"Everyone has embarrassing parents," Fernando dismisses. "I am just glad you cannot understand much of what mine are saying." He offers Mark a smile that Mark can't help but return. "I think is nice they worry about you. It shows they care."

Mark shrugs. "Maybe." He sighs. "Christian still sees me as a twelve-year-old."

"Of course," Fernando responds. "You are his baby."

"Seb's his baby," Mark dismisses.

Fernando sits down beside him. "Where is Seb? I will get to meet him soon?"

"He's hiding in his room," Mark responds. "He doesn't like people." He looks down, playing with his hands. Fernando reaches over, putting two fingers under his chin and making him look back up.

"Today is a happy day," he says.

"Yeah," Mark agrees, but all he can think is that Fernando hasn't taken his hand away yet.

"You do not seem very happy," Fernando points out.

Mark smiles and it's a real smile because Fernando is still touching him and now would be the perfect moment for that first kiss. They're alone, they're ever so slightly drunk, there's an intimacy between them that Mark can feel growing by the second. And Fernando is touching _him_. That's a pretty big indicator he's going to reciprocate.

Mark can feel his lips parting as he looks into Fernando's eyes, his tongue flicking out to dampen them, but he doesn't move. He likes Fernando too much to risk messing up this week that he has with him. He turns away, Fernando's hand falling from his chin, looking at his watch as a distraction.

"We should get going, mate," he says, getting to his feet. "Everyone will be in town by now."

"We have not had our wine yet," Fernando says.

"Well, get yourself prettied up and we'll throw some back before we leave," Mark tells him, heading for the door.

"I will not be long," Fernando promises.

Mark nods, letting himself out. It's a humid night and he blames that for the hot flustered feeling that won't leave as he heads across the lawn and back up to the house. Christian is still in the kitchen, fussing with some nibbles, and Mark almost turns around and heads back out again. He's going to have to face him eventually though.

"Hey," he greets.

Christian turns, almost dropping his nibbles. "Where's Fernando?"

"Getting ready to go out," Mark responds.

"Jenson's using your room," Christian tells him.

Mark nods. It'll probably smell like a whorehouse by the time he's done. He shoves his hands into his pockets, coming further into the room.

"I'm sorry," Christian says. "I didn't mean to embarrass you. I don't want to be one of those dads."

Mark shrugs. "I am slightly trustworthy, you know."

"I know," Christian says, making sure the conviction is clear in his voice.

Mark goes to lean against the counter beside him, watching as Christian puts the finishing touches to his snacks. "Seriously, what is with this whole housewife routine?" he asks. "Aren't you supposed to be a tough business man?"

Christian sighs. "I don't know what I am."

It's not the first time Mark's noticed the cracks but it's the first time he's ever seen Christian admit that things might not be perfect. It instantly has Mark on high alert. He's not sure whether it's the business or the marriage or the fact that both are tied so hopelessly together, but something isn't clicking for Christian and it scares Mark because this is the one thing he's always been able to count on. Maybe it's just a midlife crisis, Mark reasons, empty nest syndrome.

"Is..."

"Am ready," Fernando announces as he comes into the kitchen, interrupting whatever question Mark was about to be brave enough to ask.

Mark turns around and offers him a smile. "Great. Jenson's just in my room, he'll be down in a bit." He watches Christian leave with his nibbles and feels a horrible sinking feeling.

"How come Jenson gets to see your room and I do not?" Fernando asks, walking across the kitchen towards him.

Mark feels himself getting hot again. "Why do you want to see my room?" he asks.

"So I can see what embarrassing posters you have on your wall," Fernando says.

Mark snorts a laugh. "Look where I live. You think I'm allowed to put posters on my walls?" Fernando retrieves his glass of wine. "I have stars though."

Fernando looks intrigued. "Stars?"

"Maybe I'll show you them," Mark tells him. "Another day."

Fernando smiles. "Yes, we will do this." He takes a sip of his wine. "I will go say goodbye to my parents."

Mark nods his agreement, waiting for Fernando to leave the room before he slumps against the counter. He grabs his own glass, downing it in one before he reaches for the bottle to refill it. He doesn't want to think anymore. He doesn't want to think about another fucking thing.


	6. Chapter 6

Mark knocks on the door to the guest house, bag of goodies in hand. When Fernando answers the door he's dressed but looking like he's just dragged himself from bed. Mark tries not to let his mind wander.

"I brought breakfast," he announces, holding up the bag.

"I think it is closer to lunchtime," Fernando replies.

"We're young," Mark dismisses. "It's acceptable to have breakfast at lunchtime."

Fernando smiles. "Yes, I like this thinking." He opens the door wider in invitation, Mark following him inside.

Setting the bag down on the counter of the kitchenette Mark reaches inside and takes out a couple of eggs. "Fresh from the chickens," he says. "Can't get any better than that."

"You are a farmer already," Fernando says fondly.

"Need a bit more than a few chickens to be a farmer," Mark dismisses, turning back to his bag. "And I got bacon."

"Fresh from the pig?" Fernando asks.

"'Fraid not, mate," Mark replies, pulling out the rest of his supplies and then finding a frying pan in one of the cupboards, getting to work on the small hob.

They eat by the window in an easy silence, this scenario already so familiar to both of them. Mark can almost pretend they're back in that student house, that his world hasn't started to fall down around him yet.

When Fernando finishes eating he stares out of the window at the garden and when Mark finishes eating he stares at Fernando. He's aware that his crush on Fernando is becoming increasingly tragic but he's not about to stop himself indulging. This week is about avoiding reality all together if he can help it. When Fernando has gone home, Mark tells himself, he's going to face up to everything. He's not sure he really believes himself though.

"I will get the tour soon?" Fernando asks, turning to face him.

Mark blinks to break himself out of his reverie. "Tour?"

"Your house," Fernando says.

"Oh," Mark responds. "Uh. Maybe later. I'll tell you what, how about I introduce you to the chickens and then we can round the dogs up and go for a walk, I'll show you the area."

Fernando considers him for a moment. "You like animals more than you like people."

"I'm letting you come along too," Mark points out. "So I must think pretty highly of you."

"Then I am flattered," Fernando says, a little smile on his face. "Let us go meet these chickens."

Mark leads him around the building and to the hidden little corner where the chicken coop is kept. He leans on the fence, looking over them fondly, and he realises he feels kind of like a proud parent.

"Did you give them names?" Fernando asks.

"I gave them human names," Mark replies with a little smile. "Which drove Seb crazy." He points a couple out. "That's Pamela, that's Barbara, over there's Mildred."

Fernando laughs. "You named them like old ladies."

Mark shrugs. "They're my old birds." He plays with the fence. "I did let Seb name one of them though."

Fernando looks at him. "What did he name it?"

Mark points towards the chicken in question. "That right there is Feathers McGraw."

Fernando smiles. "That is inventive."

Mark shakes his head. "He stole it. There's nothing inventive about him. Every word out of his mouth he read in a book somewhere." Fernando studies him for a moment. "What?" Mark snaps.

"I know how much your chickens mean to you," Fernando says. "But you let Seb name one so I think he must be very special to you as well."

Mark turns to stare at the chickens. "He's my little brother. He's a pain in the arse. I never said I didn't like him. We're just different, that's all."

Fernando nods. "I am different from my sister."

"I've seen the pictures," Mark agrees. "She's got a better rack than you."

"I didn't know you were interested in these things," Fernando replies, a hint of flirtation in his voice that Mark might be imagining. He considers him for a moment, feeling the tiniest tug of possibility.

"Yeah, well," he dismisses, glancing at the chickens before pushing himself away from the fence. "Let's go find the dogs."

It becomes their little routine, breakfast in the guest house in the morning followed by a long walk with the dogs. Mark knows that walking the dogs is Sebastian's job but Christian keeps his mouth shut and Mark can tell he's trying so desperately not to be the nagging mother hen he naturally is. He makes a big effort to be friendly and welcoming and Mark appreciates it.

Sebastian stays mostly out of the way like he has no idea what to do about his comfort zone being invaded by this person he doesn't know. Mark feels kind of sorry for him, even though he really wants to tell him to pull himself together. He's glad that Sebastian's discomfort displays itself in shy reluctance rather than the defensive tantrums he's been having a lot of lately. Though maybe if he was a brat Fernando would understand why Mark moans about him so much.

Sometimes they meet up with Jenson or sometimes they explore the surrounding area or sometimes they just laze around in the sun and do nothing. It's the kind of life Mark could get used to. They don't spend every second together, they're not attached at the hip, Fernando meets up with other people from uni or heads over to Cirencester to get supplies for his course and Mark has his usual routines to keep him busy. They inevitably gravitate together in the evenings though, enjoying the last of the day's warmth in the garden.

At the end of the week the weather finally breaks, heavy rain pounding down and making them dive into the guest house. It's humid, no air at all, even with the window open and the raindrops soaking into the cushions of the window seat. Mark groans, throwing himself down on the bed.

"I should close it?" Fernando asks, hovering at the edge of the room.

"Just move the cushions," Mark tells him. "It'll be fine."

He can't stand the thought of the window being closed, the air already suffocating in the room, even though there's no breeze to act as relief. Fernando pulls the cushions from the seat and places them on the floor, considering the rain for a moment before joining Mark on the other half of the bed.

They don't talk, both tired and uncomfortable. Mark stares at the ceiling, feeling the sweat beading up on his skin. After a while Fernando props himself up with some pillows and reaches for his book. Mark tilts his head to the side to look at the cover. It's all in Spanish so it means nothing to Mark but when he'd asked Fernando about it earlier in the week he'd been told that it was the Samurai code. Somehow that made perfect sense to Mark.

With the sound of slowly turning pages in the background, Mark drifts off to sleep, only waking when he feels the covers moving beneath him. He lifts his head to see Fernando, dressed only in his boxers, attempting to push the bedding back so that he can climb beneath it. Mark blinks a couple of times, wondering if he's dreaming.

"Sorry," he says when it becomes evident he's not. He pushes himself up, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Didn't mean to fall asleep. You should have kicked me ages ago." He swings his legs down onto the floor, steadying himself in readiness for standing.

"Stay," Fernando says, the word so simple that Mark can't quite fathom an argument. He turns to look at Fernando.

"What?"

"It is still raining," Fernando points out. "You will get wet. You can just stay here. I do not mind."

Mark considers him for a moment, trying to work out what kind of offer it is. There's no hidden meaning of course, nothing more than a friendly offer. Mark should just leave but he's really tired and the rain is still coming down heavy. With a sigh he strips his jeans off and together they climb under a single sheet, the weather too hot for anything else.

Mark stays so near to the edge of the bed that he feels like he might fall out but he'd rather that than risk rubbing up against Fernando in even the most innocent way. Sleep doesn't return to him easily, despite how heavy his body feels. He blames the heat, pulling his T-shirt over his head and tossing it aside before pushing the covers down to his waist. He stares at the ceiling, murky now without the lights on, and listens to the rain, but it's a torrent rather than a soothing pitter-patter. With a frustrated sigh he kicks the sheet off his legs.

"I cannot sleep either," Fernando says, his voice sounding both faraway and intimately close. "Maybe we should play a game."

Mark frowns, turning his head to look at him. "A game?"

" _I never_ ," Fernando says. "We have played it before, you know it."

"That's a drinking game," Mark points out. "So unless you've got a bottle of vodka stashed under your pillow..."

"We can play without," Fernando dismisses. "Instead of drinking you can click your fingers."

"I can't click my fingers," Mark tells him, lifting a hand to display his inability as his fingers slide uselessly past each other. Even in the dim light he can see Fernando smile at him.

"I am learning things about you already."

Mark drops his hand back down to the bed, staring up at the ceiling again.

"I have never owned chickens," Fernando states.

Mark gives an irritated sigh. "Why are you saying things you already know?"

"You start then," Fernando offers.

Mark thinks for a moment but every sentence starting with _I never_ calls to mind some inherit failure he has. _I've never come first, I've never been certain about my future, I've never made things easy on myself, I've never said the right thing at the right time and had it be worth it._

"I've never been fluent in another language," he says, his voice filled with disappointment.

Fernando clicks his fingers. "But now you are saying things you already know."

"This is a stupid game," Mark complains, turning onto his side away from Fernando.

"Let me try again," Fernando says. "I have never kissed anyone and not meant it."

Mark feels himself tense. "And now I'm supposed to click my fingers?"

"You told me you can't click your fingers," Fernando points out.

"But you think it's true," Mark challenges, turning back to face him, feeling a fire lit up inside him. "You think I have."

"I am only telling you something about me," Fernando shrugs.

"You think I fuck anything that moves?" Mark demands. "What? You think I'm a whore?"

"No one is talking about fucking," Fernando states. "I said kissing."

"Judgemental prick," Mark spits out.

Fernando considers him for a moment. "I have seen you kiss lots of boys. You very rarely seem to mean it."

"Fuck you," Mark bites back, sitting up and reaching for his T-shirt.

"How many became boyfriends?" Fernando asks. "How many did you even want to see again?"

"Who I choose to kiss or blow or fuck is absolutely none of your fucking business, mate," Mark tells him, pulling his jeans furiously up his legs.

"It is my business," Fernando says. "Because I want to be sure." Mark pauses in buttoning up his jeans to turn and face him, searching his face for the sincerity he hears in his voice. "I do not kiss unless I am sure. I am not careless with these things."

Mark feels his face crumple but his righteous indignation is in full swing and he can't quite manage to dampen it, even if Fernando is saying what Mark is pretty sure he's saying right now. Mark fastens the button on his jeans and then holds his hands out to his sides as if offering himself.

"What you see if what you get, mate."

There's a challenge in his voice and Fernando looks disappointed. Mark rolls his eyes and shakes his head, turning to leave. He walks barefoot across the grass, soaked to the skin from just the short trip into the house. Against all his instincts he closes the door softly behind himself, nearly jumping out of his skin when he turns around to see Adrian lurking at the end of the hallway.

"Bloody hell," Mark complains, running a hand through his wet hair as he heads towards the stairs, bringing him closer to Adrian. "What are you doing?"

"I was working," Adrian explains. "Just heading up to bed."

"Me too," Mark agrees, choosing not to comment on how ridiculous Adrian's working hours are. He has other things on his mind right now.

"You don't have to sneak back in," Adrian tells him. "Really, you can stay out there with Fernando, Christian's moment of insanity has passed."

"I wasn't sneaking," Mark says, feeling himself tensing up again. "And there's nothing going on with me and Fernando, alright? Nothing at all."

"That's not the impression I got," Adrian says easily. "From the way you look at each other."

Mark glares at him. "You're mistaken," he says shortly. "I'm going to bed."

Adrian nods. "He's a good kid. You could do worse."

Mark feels himself sag because he has done worse, so much worse, and now he's probably fucked this up beyond repair. It must show on his face because Adrian puts a consoling hand on his shoulder and Mark wants to fold into him. He looks up towards the stairs.

"Wake Christian up and give him a hug," he says. "Or whatever."

Adrian smiles. "I'm not sure he'd appreciate that."

Mark shrugs. "I think he might."

The next morning he doesn't go visit Fernando for breakfast. He sits at the island in the kitchen, poking a bowl of cereal, when there's a knock at the door. He goes to answer it, surprised to find a smiling Jenson on the other side.

"Morning," he greets.

"What are you doing here?" Mark asks.

Jenson frowns. "Fernando text me, said we should go to the reservoir. Don't you two talk or is your communication strictly in longing looks?"

Mark can't even be bothered to respond, turning and walking into the house, leaving the door open for Jenson to follow him. Mark returns to his cereal while Jenson plays with his phone. A few moments later Fernando lets himself in through the sliding doors.

"You are up," he says cheerfully to Mark. "Good. We are going to the reservoir. You say it is nice."

"Yeah, well, enjoy," Mark responds. "Jenson's a great tour guide."

Fernando's expression falters. "But you will come too."

"Don't remember being extended an invitation, mate," Mark says pointedly.

"Of course you are invited," Fernando says. "I want you to come."

Mark sighs, putting down his spoon and abandoning his soggy cereal. "Spend the day with Jenson," he tells Fernando. "We'll catch up later."

"Okay," Fernando agrees. "If this is what you want."

Mark doesn't respond. He can't see the point. There is an awkward silence.

"So, you got everything?" Jenson asks Fernando.

"Ready to go," Fernando replies.

Jenson nods, shifting on his feet. "Why don't you wait outside for me? I just need to..."

"Talk about me," Fernando mutters, heading for the door.

"I'm impartial, I'm Switzerland, I don't take sides," Jenson calls after him. When they hear the front door click shut Jenson leans in to Mark. "Do you need me to beat him up for you?"

The corners of Mark's mouth lift up into a tired smile. "It's fine. Take care of him. Play nice."

"Alright," Jenson agrees with a certain amount of reluctance. "But I'd kill for you. Just know that about me."

Mark smiles fully. "Believe me I do."

The day is overcast but warm. Mark sits on the decking, throwing a ball for the dogs and watching them race across the lawn to fetch it first. He likes the hypnotic repetition of it, performing the same action over and over but with slightly different results as a different dog gets to the prize first.

"Where's Fernando?"

Mark looks up to see Sebastian leaning in the doorway. "He's gone out with Jenson so you're safe to come out of your room."

"Why didn't you go with them?" Sebastian asks.

Mark wrestles the ball from Bernie's mouth and throws it again. "What's it got to do with you?"

"And you say I'm moody," Sebastian comments. He comes outside and sits down on one of the chairs.

"Aren't you allergic to sunlight?" Mark asks, not looking at him.

"It's cloudy," Sebastian points out. "And I saw you out of the window, you looked pathetic."

"Well, you'd know something about looking pathetic, wouldn't you?" Mark responds.

Flavio brings the ball back this time and he gives it up much more easily. Mark tosses it back across the grass, all three dogs scurrying after it.

"I like Fernando," Sebastian says.

"So you fancy all my mates then?" Mark asks.

Sebastian sighs. "I know you think I'm just your stupid little brother."

Mark turns to look at him, ignoring Bernie who once again has the ball. "Go on then," he challenges. "What highly insightful thing do you have to say about my life?"

"I wasn't..." Sebastian says awkwardly, shrinking back in his chair.

"No, come on, let's have it," Mark insists. "Give me your holier than thou advice."

Sebastian pouts. "I was being nice."

"I don't need your pity," Mark spits out, pulling the ball roughly from Bernie's mouth and throwing it so hard it lands in the flowerbeds at the far end of the garden. Mark sighs as the dogs hurtle towards them. Christian's going to be pissed when they're all trampled.

"I don't pity you," Sebastian says, getting to his feet. "At least you have something to mess up. I don't even have that."

Mark sags in his chair, turning to watch Sebastian leave, and he feels like such a twat. He knows it's unfair to take his bad mood out on other people but Sebastian is always so good at making Mark go on the defensive. It's not Sebastian's fault that Mark is so pathetic his own little brother turns him into a mess of insecurities though.

By the time Jenson and Fernando return Mark's mood has mellowed out somewhat though his ego is still feeling bruised which instantly makes him want to lash out. Jenson stays for dinner, making jokes and cutting the tension, leaving a jovial atmosphere behind when he finally leaves. Mark offers to load the dishwasher and Fernando helps, the two of them working in a silence that feels more companionable than awkward. As Mark turns the dishwasher on Fernando leans against the counter, arms crossed over his chest.

"You say you will show me the stars."

Mark looks up at him. "What?"

"You say your bedroom has stars," Fernando reminds him. "You say you will show me."

"Oh," Mark says. "Yeah." Fernando looks at him expectantly. "Now?"

Fernando shrugs. "We are running out of time."

The words make Mark's stomach flip over uncomfortably. He nods his head, leading the way up the stairs. "You have to charge them up," he says, opening up his bedroom door.

"Charge them up?" Fernando repeats.

Mark flicks the light on, closing the door behind them. "They glow in the dark," he explains. "But they need to soak up some light first."

Fernando looks up at the ceiling. "Ah." He moves over to the bed. "We can wait."

"Yeah," Mark agrees, sitting down next to him. He folds his hands in his lap. This feels risky.

"I like to look at the stars in Spain," Fernando tells him. "By my house, is not many lights. You can see so many when it is clear."

"Yeah," Mark agrees. "Same here."

Fernando moves up Mark's bed, lying down with his head on Mark's pillow. "I like to lie in the garden, like this. Does not hurt your neck then to look."

"Smart," Mark says, but he doesn't move.

Fernando looks at him. "I do not want you to hurt your neck."

Mark shrugs. "I'm trying not to hurt something else."

He stares down at his hands, clasping them together and pulling them apart. Fernando is behind him now so he can't see him which is kind of a relief but he's very aware of the fact that Fernando is probably watching him, reading too much into every shift and movement.

"I know that I upset you," Fernando states.

"Don't take it personally," Mark replies. "No one can talk to me lately without upsetting me."

"I think maybe I was not clear," Fernando continues.

"Crystal, mate," Mark assures him.

"If I was clear I do not think you would be upset," Fernando insists. There's an edge to his voice so Mark doesn't bother arguing. Fernando sighs. "I like to maybe go for dinner first."

Mark turns to give him a questioning look over his shoulder. "What?"

Fernando smiles. "I like..." He trails off, giving a shrug.

"We just had dinner," Mark points out.

Fernando rolls his eyes. "Do you miss the point on purpose?"

"No," Mark says sadly.

Fernando's face softens into something so fond and inviting. "Come lie down with me."

"I'm okay here, thanks, mate," Mark assures him, turning back around.

Silence falls over them. Mark looks up at the ceiling, wondering if enough time has passed for the stars to glow.

"I want to kiss you," Fernando says.

Mark feels a shiver up his spine, a heat on his cheeks, and it's so embarrassing it actually makes him squirm.

"I think maybe I was not clear about this last night," Fernando says.

"You definitely weren't," Mark agrees.

"But these things are easy for you," Fernando continues. "You have some wine and you like to kiss people and there is nothing wrong with this but I do not want to be someone you kiss after too many glasses of wine. I want..."

Mark turns around to look at him. "I haven't had any wine tonight."

"No," Fernando agrees.

Mark moves up the bed, lying down beside Fernando, careful not to let their bodies touch. He plays over in his mind everything Fernando has said since they came into the room because he doesn't want to get this wrong again.

"You want me to take you on a date?" he asks, trying to read between the lines.

"I am going home tomorrow," Fernando points out.

"But that's what you want?" Mark presses.

Fernando shrugs. "I am old fashioned."

"You're fucking medieval," Mark mutters.

"I want to kiss you," Fernando says again.

Mark turns his head to look at him. "Would you mean it?"

"I always mean it," Fernando reminds him.

Mark nods. "I promise I'll mean it too."

The first brush of lips is tentative, almost questioning. Mark flicks his tongue out, dampening his own lips, and then he tries again, a little bit firmer. Fernando rolls onto his side and Mark mirrors the action so that they're facing each other. Fernando's eyes are half-closed, a hand touching Mark's cheek, and it takes so much willpower for Mark not to just press him into the bed and _take_.

He forces himself to be slow, to explore, to fit his mouth against Fernando's and work out the best ways to make him sigh. There's a gap between their bodies, no more than a couple of inches, but it makes Mark feel untethered. His hand slides down Fernando's body, fingertips catching on the fabric of his T-shirt, and as his palm rests against Fernando's hip Fernando makes a whole new noise that Mark definitely wants to hear more of.

He sucks on Fernando's lower lip, flicks his tongue over it, seeking permission. Fernando makes that noise again, something between a whine and a moan, pressing his body against Mark's as he parts his lips, letting Mark have everything all at once. Things become embarrassingly frantic, all grabbing hands and hungry mouths, a year's worth of sexual tension, maybe three.

The door unceremoniously opening is like a bucket of cold water thrown over them. Mark looks towards it in time to see Sebastian stammer something unintelligible before slamming it closed again. Mark laughs, high pitched and slightly delirious. Fernando looks slightly bemused before curling up close to him, pressing his face into Mark's neck.

"Do you think the stars are ready?" he asks.

"Let's give them a go," Mark replies, reaching over for the light switch and plunging them into darkness. Sure enough, the little stars light up above them.

"I like the stars," Fernando says again.

"Me too," Mark agrees.

Hands slide over clothed bodies and mouths find each other once again in the dark. They kiss and touch and press themselves tightly together until the lights above them begin to fade and Fernando pulls away, panting.

"I should go to bed," he says. "Alone," he adds quickly.

Mark smiles. "Understood."

Fernando leans in, joining their mouths again, a lingering kiss that neither quite wants to pulls away from. He leans over Mark's body, fumbling for a moment before the light turns on and they're both squinting in the sudden brightness.

Fernando sits up, rubbing at his eyes. "I will see you in the morning."

"I'll bring the breakfast supplies," Mark agrees. Fernando gets to his feet, straightening out his clothing. "Want me to walk you out?" Mark offers.

"I think maybe I will not be able to turn you away," Fernando replies.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Mark responds, getting to his feet. Fernando gives him a look before heading to the door. Mark goes to join him. "Sleep well."

"You too," Fernando returns, reaching up on his tiptoes for one last kiss.

Mark opens the door for him, a movement on the handle outside catching his eye. He looks down to see Sebastian's _do not disturb_ sign has been put on his door. He takes it off.

"What is that?" Fernando asks.

"Nothing," Mark dismisses. "I have to go see Seb."

Fernando nods, eyes falling to Mark's mouth before he forces himself to turn away. Mark waits until he's down the stairs before he goes to knock on Sebastian's door.

"Yeah?"

Mark opens the door, leaning inside to throw the sign at Sebastian. "You're such a dork."

Sebastian immediately goes bright red. "I didn't want anyone else to walk in on you." He reaches down to pick his sign up off the floor, playing with the edge of it. "I'm really sorry. I didn't know you were doing... that."

Mark shrugs, unconcerned. "What did you want?"

Sebastian continues to play with his sign, not looking up. "You disappeared, I wanted to check on you."

Mark smiles. "It's not your job to look after me."

"Whatever," Sebastian says awkwardly.

"Thanks though," Mark tells him. "Just knock next time."

"I definitely will," Sebastian agrees, his eyes going wide.

Mark laughs. "Hey, listen," he says. "About what you said earlier. If you got out there a bit more maybe you'd have something to mess up too."

Sebastian shrugs. "Not long before school starts up again."

"Not really what I had in mind, mate," Mark says. He shakes his head. "If anything made me as happy as homework makes you..."

"Get lost," Sebastian tells him.

Mark smiles. "Sleep well. Don't have nightmares."

Sebastian throws the sign back across the room but Mark closes the door before it can hit him.


	7. Chapter 7

Ever since graduation, Mark's felt increasingly small around Jenson. He knows it's stupid, knows that Jenson couldn't care less what he did with his life, would never think less of him for taking a different path, but when he turns up at Mark's house declaring that he has _news_ , Mark can't help but feel like he's being left behind.

The fact that Jenson has a box of cupcakes in his hand tells Mark that he's been to Cirencester which means this is more than likely a university story and Mark feels like just going back to bed. He invites Jenson inside though and they sit at the island in the kitchen, Mark picking at the sprinkles on a cupcake while Jenson devours his in about two bites before reaching for another one.

"You've been into uni then?" Mark prompts.

Jenson nods, swallowing his mouthful. "Dropped into my favourite cafe while I was there."

"Apparently so," Mark agrees.

Jenson grins at him. "You're not going to be the only one copping a feel of foreign students."

Mark frowns at him. "What?"

"I was queuing up and I saw this guy sat there looking all frazzled reading one of our textbooks," Jenson explains. "So I thought it would be only polite to check he was okay."

"What did you do to the poor guy?" Mark asks.

Jenson laughs. "I just introduced myself, asked what he was studying," he says defensively. "I'm not a predator."

"From my experience you pretty much are," Mark counters.

"Oh, you can talk," Jenson responds. "Just because you've donned the chastity belt for Fernando doesn't change your past."

Mark shifts in his seat, scooping up a little frosting with his finger. "So who is this guy?"

Jenson sits up a little taller, looking suddenly animated. "His name's Nico and he's German but he's lived in Monaco pretty much his whole life. _Monaco._ He went to some fancy university over there but he's come here for the specialist Master's programme."

"The programme you just happen to be on," Mark says. "How fortunate."

"So naturally I offered to be his guide," Jenson says. "I'm taking him out around Oxford tonight, show him the nightlife."

"I assume he's hot then," Mark prompts.

"He's an eleven," Jenson enthuses. "Trust me. He's blond, ridiculously good looking, really nice body. And he's kind of... sassy."

Mark snorts a laugh. "Sassy?"

"Just wait until you meet him," Jenson responds. "You'll know what I mean."

"He's going to be sticking around long enough for me to meet him?" Mark asks.

"I hope so," Jenson replies. "He's not one you want to use up and throw away."

Mark rolls his eyes, peeling the paper off his cupcake. "You're so romantic."

"Speaking of romance," Jenson says. "How's your epic love story with Fernando playing out?"

"It's fine," Mark shrugs, taking a bite of his cupcake to buy himself some time.

"Come on, details," Jenson coaxes.

"There's nothing to tell," Mark insists. "We text, we talk on the phone, we've skyped a couple of times. Nothing can happen until he comes back."

"I assume you've never heard of phone sex then," Jenson says pointedly.

"I'd like to get some real sex first," Mark responds. "And I don't think he'd be up for it anyway. It's kind of on hold. I need to take him out for a date first."

"He sounds like hard fucking work," Jenson says.

Mark smiles, ducking his head down. "I kind of like it. Going slow. Feels more meaningful than all the fucks I've had."

Jenson shakes his head sadly. "You've got it bad."

"Tell me about it," Mark responds, rolling his eyes at himself.

"So, really, nothing?" Jenson asks like he can't quite believe it.

Mark shrugs, feeling himself blush slightly. "He sent me a half-naked picture of himself a couple of days ago."

"Which half?" Jenson asks.

Mark smirks. "Not the good half."

"You should send him a naked picture of you, he'd have to reciprocate, it would be rude not to," Jenson tells him.

"I'm not sure it works like that," Mark dismisses. Besides, he'd be disappointed if his first real glimpse of Fernando was through a tiny screen with no way of touching him.

Jenson sighs. "It's going to be so weird not having you around next year."

Mark nods. He hears the front door open, the dogs running in from their walk with Sebastian.

"All those seminars and hours of studying in the library without you to keep me sane," Jenson continues. "What am I going to do?"

"Shut up," Mark tells him urgently, gesturing pointedly towards the door. A moment later, Sebastian walks through it.

"Hey," he greets.

"Hi," Mark says tightly.

"What are you talking about?" Sebastian asks and Mark wonders just how much he heard.

"Nothing," he responds defensively.

"You want a cupcake?" Jenson offers, holding out the box.

Sebastian's face lights up. "Yeah. Thank you."

"He threw up the last cupcake you gave him," Mark states.

"Only because I was drunk," Sebastian says. "Not because I didn't like it."

Jenson grins, putting an arm around Sebastian's shoulder. "That just means we need to build up your tolerance," he says. "Mark, go get the vodka."

"Put my baby brother down," Mark tells him.

"I'm not a baby," Sebastian insists with an indignant pout that suggests otherwise.

Mark shakes his head. He really can't be bothered with this right now. "You staying for dinner?" he asks Jenson.

"Of course," Jenson says, letting go of Sebastian. "Need to line my stomach with something decent before I go out tonight."

"Where are you going?" Sebastian asks, trying to keep his voice casual while he studies his cupcake.

"Just showing a foreign student the sights of Oxford," Jenson replies.

"That's nice," Sebastian says.

"Jenson's very giving," Mark responds, giving Jenson a look.

For the entire dinner Mark has to put up with Sebastian staring all starry eyed at Jenson and trying pitifully to flirt with him and he's tempted to tell him just where Jenson is going tonight; probably straight into Nico's pants. It's embarrassing to watch and Mark keeps looking at Christian and Adrian to see if they're going to tell Sebastian to calm his fucking hormones down but neither of them seems to notice. Maybe Mark's just jealous that the object of his own affection is so far away right now.

"Well, have fun tonight," Mark tells Jenson as he walks him to the door.

"I'm sure I will," Jenson says. "I'll give you the full report tomorrow."

Mark smiles at him. "Can't wait."

As he closes the door he feels like he's being left out another part of Jenson's life. Jenson is moving on without him, making friends with people for next year that Mark won't have any place with. It's pathetic but he doesn't want things to change. He wants Jenson's life to be something he can always slot into.

He goes back through to the kitchen where Sebastian is helping Christian load the dishwasher, Adrian clearing the table and passing the dishes over. It all looks so cosy and domesticated and Mark feels like he doesn't really have a place here either.

"You need a hand?" he offers redundantly.

"We're fine," Christian assures him.

Mark nods, leaning against the counter. He watches Sebastian for a moment. "You need to start mooning over boys your own age."

Sebastian looks up, his face etched in deep confusion, looking unsure if Mark is even talking to him. "What?"

"It's pathetic, mate," Mark tells him, crossing his arms over his chest. "This thing with Jenson. It's never going to happen. Stop going after things you can't have. It's starting to get fucking tragic."

"Mark," Christian warns, giving him an equally confused but seriously unimpressed look.

"What about you?" Sebastian counters. "You didn't even get into your Master's programme."

Mark stares at him, feeling himself freeze, trying to hide the rising panic. "What?"

"Seb, what are you talking about, of course he did," Christian responds, looking increasingly lost. "We saw the letter. He starts in September."

"That's not what he was saying to Jenson earlier," Sebastian states, giving Mark a challenging look.

"Seb..." Christian begins, but he doesn't get a chance to finish.

"I'm going to kill you you little shit," Mark spits out, lunging for him. Christian catches him before he can grab hold of Sebastian who takes a step back, eyes wide.

"Mark!" Christian chastises, looking at him like he's gone mad. "What is wrong with you?" He guides him backwards away from Sebastian and Mark can see the moment when realisation dawns on him. "Sebastian," he says coldly, eyes still fixed on Mark. "Go to your room."

"Me?" Sebastian asks. "But I didn't..."

"Now," Christian all but growls. Sebastian scampers from the room. Mark wishes he could run after him. He sags back against the counter instead, watching as Christian paces, running a hand through his hair. When he turns back to face Mark he looks disappointed before Mark can even begin to explain himself. "What's going on?" he asks.

"I got in," Mark says defensively. "I got accepted. I did."

"I know that," Christian agrees. "I also know that Sebastian is a tattletale but he's not a liar. So what's he talking about?"

"I got in," Mark insists. "I was good enough. I just... I decided I didn't want to do it."

Christian gives an aggravated sigh, shaking his head. Mark looks over at Adrian who gives him a sympathetic look but Mark can tell he's incredibly let down and he just wants to sink down to the floor and disappear.

"And when where you planning on telling us this?" Christian asks.

"Soon?" Mark responds.

"Soon," Christian repeats. "Well, that's great. So what exactly is your plan then? I assume you have a plan if you're throwing this chance away."

Mark chews on his lip and he can't meet Christian's eyes. He hunches his shoulders up, giving a shrug. This is why he didn't want them to find out yet. He just needed a little more time to work it out and then he could tell them confidently what came next. Right now he feels more lost than ever.

"Okay," Christian says. "I'll tell you what you're going to do. You're going to get a job."

"Yeah," Mark agrees. "I mean, I was just working it out, deciding what I wanted to do."

"No," Christian tells him. "You're getting a job. I don't care what job, you can go stack shelves in the supermarket for all I care, but you're getting a job and you're getting it now. You're not sitting around this house feeling sorry for yourself and expecting us to pay your way."

"I don't," Mark insists, looking up at him. He can feel tears stinging at his eyes but he tries to stay indignant. He never expected anyone to carry him and he's upset that Christian would think that of him.

"Christian," Adrian appeals.

"No," Christian snaps. "You're not playing that good cop, bad cop shit on me. Not now, Adrian."

Mark looks over at Adrian, his lips pressed together in a straight line, staring at Christian. Mark hates this, hates when there's conflict between them, hates that it always seems to be him that causes it lately. He's just one big fuck up after another.

"I'll get a job," he says quietly, looking at the floor. "I promise."

"Yes, you will," Christian agrees.

Mark squeezes his eyes shut, feeling about two inches tall. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice cracking. "I was going to tell you. I wanted to sort my shit out first."

"Sort it out now," Christian says, his voice a little softer, but it doesn't help. Mark feels too beaten down to take the sliver of kindness.

"Sorry," he says again before turning around and slinking out of the room.

He throws himself down on his bed, sliding his phone from his pocket, and he wants to call Jenson or Fernando but he knows they can't help. He made this mess, he's the one who has to live with it. He sits up, wiping at his damp eyes. Christian's right, he doesn't deserve any self-pity. He goes over to the desk, opening up his laptop and looking for job sites.

About half an hour later there's a knock on his door and Mark feels himself instantly tense. "Yeah?" he asks warily.

Adrian comes into the room, shutting the door behind himself. "Hey."

"I'm looking," Mark says defensively. "I'm trying to find a job."

"Good for you," Adrian says with a little smile, sliding his hands into his pockets. Mark frowns, not sure what to make of him. "Listen," Adrian says. "Don't take anything Christian says to heart. He doesn't mean it how it sounds, he just wants to motivate you, he thinks he's helping by giving you a kick up the arse. Trust me, I get it all the time."

"Yeah right," Mark says, looking back at his screen.

"He's my boss," Adrian reminds him. "Sometimes a tyrannical one."

Mark looks up at him. "You're partners."

Adrian shakes his head. "He runs the business. I just draw the pretty pictures."

"He wouldn't have a business without your pretty pictures," Mark points out.

"Oh, he'd be in charge of some great scheme, with or without me," Adrian dismisses.

Mark slumps back in his chair, knowing he's giving Adrian a pleading look. "Are you guys okay?"

"What do you mean?" Adrian asks, frowning slightly.

"Are you having problems?" Mark asks, finally feeling brave enough, or lost enough, to ask the question.

"With the business?" Adrian asks.

"With your marriage," Mark states.

"No," Adrian responds, looking completely bemused. "Why do you say that?"

Mark shrugs, looking down at his keyboard. "You seem... not okay. And I don't want to make it worse if there is a problem but if you guys split up I think it would be the worst thing that ever happened to me." He gives a little sniff, overwhelmed by the thought, Adrian rushing over to his side and putting an arm around his shoulder, pulling him in.

"We're fine," Adrian insists. "Mark, what's brought all this on?"

"You seem... really tired sometimes," Mark says. "With each other."

"That's because we've been married for a million years," Adrian explains. "There is nothing wrong."

Mark squeezes his eyes shut and he tries very hard to believe it but he remembers the way Christian has been acting lately and he's just not sure it's true. He looks up at Adrian. "You should talk to Christian."

Adrian looks concerned. "Mark..."

"Just, please," Mark implores. "Probably not tonight, I fucked that up for you..."

"Don't swear," Adrian tells him, squeezing his shoulder.

Mark sighs, sagging against him. "I'm sorry I let you guys down."

"For the record, it's the keeping secrets we object to," Adrian tells him. "I don't care if you get a Master's or not. Do what makes you happy. If you do that, we'll always be proud of you."

The words are such a cliché and Mark wants to roll his eyes at them but he just can't find it in his heart to do it right now. Besides, he doesn't know what's going to make him happy, that's been the problem all along.

"Do you want some help looking through these?" Adrian offers, gesturing towards the screen.

Mark shakes his head. "I think this is something I have to do by myself."

"Okay," Adrian agrees. "Don't stay up too late, kid."

Mark smiles at the nickname. "I'm not a kid anymore."

"You don't get to shed that label with me," Adrian tells him with a smile, ruffling his hair. Mark ducks out of the way. The words are both a comfort and everything he's been afraid of. "Well, I'll leave you to it," Adrian says, stepping away.

"Thanks," Mark tells him. "For not yelling at me. I know I messed up."

"Just tell us what's going on," Adrian says. "Whether you think it's what we want to hear or not." Mark nods, feeling gently chastised, but deservedly so this time. "And don't worry about Christian, he's calmed down already. I'm sure he'll be up to give you a big hug before he goes to bed."

Mark smiles. "Thanks," he says again.

Sure enough, just as Mark is shutting down his laptop and wondering how he's ever going to sleep easy tonight, Christian comes into his room and scoops him into a big hug. Mark can't help but cling to him.

"I love you," Christian tells him. It's not an apology and it's not an acceptance of what Mark's done wrong, but it's probably the thing that Mark needs to hear most right now. He leans his head on Christian's shoulder and he lets himself be a kid for a while because he has a feeling that tomorrow it all changes.


	8. Chapter 8

Fish farming is not real farming. Mark's not sure he's ever felt as passionate about anything as he feels about that. He isn't exactly in a position to be fussy though so he took the only job he could find that was slightly related to his field and he tells himself it's just a stopgap. It kind of feels like a life sentence already though.

Fish smell and everything's always wet and they pretty much do their own thing completely oblivious to your existence as long as you don't let them starve to death. Mark really can't see the appeal. He has a job as one of the managers at a trout farm though so he's responsible for setting up the environments and encouraging the fish to breed and he finds it slightly depressing that three years of university have somehow boiled down to this.

At least that part of the job is fairly straightforward to him. The bit he really hates is coordinating his team because they're all much older than him with much more experience and he can tell they think he's just a stupid kid who doesn't know what he's doing. They're probably right. They're friendly enough to him, do what he asks, there's never an unpleasant atmosphere, but Mark knows they'd be happier running the place themselves while he sat in his office and left them alone.

It's been two weeks now and he doesn't feel like he's settled in yet. This couldn't be any further away from what he saw himself doing when he was sixteen years old and begged his parents for those chickens. Making fish fuck is really never where he saw himself ending up.

It's his day off though and he's determined to push the thoughts from his mind. He takes the dogs out for a long walk in the morning, heading across the fields to the reservoir. They're worn out by the time they get back, collapsing into their baskets, and Mark feels much better for giving his legs and lungs a decent stretch. He's just grabbing a cool drink when his phone rings in his pocket. He can't help the smile that spreads over his face when he sees Fernando's name on the caller ID.

"You have excellent timing," Mark tells him, swinging the fridge door closed.

"Do I?" Fernando asks, sounding amused. "What are you doing?"

"Just got back from taking the dogs out," Mark explains, heading for the stairs. "And now I'm in the mood to sprawl out and listen to you tell me all about what's going on in Spain."

"Sprawl out?" Fernando asks, something thoughtful in his voice like he's imagining it. "I think I would like to see this."

"I'll send you a photo," Mark responds, closing his bedroom door behind himself. He takes a sip of his drink, contemplating the bed before his eyes land on the reading nook. He climbs in there instead, leaning back against the cushions. "So, talk," he prompts. "What are you up to?"

"Not much," Fernando replies, but he talks anyway and Mark is glad he chose to sit in here. He sets his drink down and closes his eyes, the closeness of the space making everything feel intimate. He misses Fernando. He'd like to kiss him in here. He'd like to do a lot of things with him. His accent is thick, thicker, Mark thinks, after being in Spain for so many weeks now, his English out of use. Mark likes it, the way his voice feeds directly into his ear making it feel like Fernando is whispering to him, like he should be able to feel his breath.

In the middle of Fernando's monologue about a family dinner and his sister's new boyfriend Mark hears a knock at the door but he refuses to move. A minute later it's there again, a little more insistent, and Mark hears Sebastian's bedroom door open, his moody teenage feet stomping down the stairs. Mark rolls his eyes and presses himself further into the cushions, blocking out everything but Fernando.

"You are liking the job more now?" Fernando asks when he's run out of stories and Mark opens his eyes, his heart sinking. He doesn't want to talk about the mess that is his life. Fernando is supposed to be his escape.

"It's a job," he shrugs with a sigh. "It is what is it."

There's a pause. "I am not sure I know what this means," Fernando says. "You are not liking it?"

"It's..." Mark begins, but he doesn't even know where to start. "It's fine," he finally says. "Not exactly what I want to do for the rest of my life, but I guess it's something."

"You do not like it," Fernando says decisively, clearly reading Mark's tone. "But we look on the bright side," he continues. "You are making money to take me out when I return next week."

Mark laughs. "Haven't even got my first paycheck yet, mate."

"Hmm," Fernando considers. "Maybe I need a richer boyfriend."

"I'll take you somewhere nice," Mark tells him. "You're worth the overdraft."

"We will share the bill," Fernando responds.

"Then how am I going to guilt you into putting out?" Mark asks.

Fernando laughs. "I cannot wait to be back."

"Me neither, mate, me neither," Mark agrees with a sigh. He closes his eyes again, imagining the way Fernando felt under his hands, the way he tasted when they kissed. This had been on hold too fucking long. Mark had the worst timing ever. Three years he spent every day with Fernando and he picks the moment just before he heads back to Spain.

"Well, I should go," Fernando says. "I say I will help with the shopping."

Mark looks at his watch, remembering that Fernando is an hour ahead of him. "Yeah, alright."

"You will send me photo?" Fernando asks.

Mark frowns. "Photo of what?"

"Of you," Fernando responds. "You say earlier you will send me one. Sprawled out."

"I'm in the reading nook," Mark tells him.

"Where?" Fernando asks, sounding puzzled.

"Never mind," Mark tells him. "You really want a photo?"

"I do," Fernando agrees.

Mark smiles. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," Fernando tells him. "I will wait eagerly. Goodbye."

"Adios, mate," Mark responds, hanging up the phone.

He climbs out of the nook, laying on the bed where the light is better. He holds his phone above himself, pulling a pouty face in an over the top attempt at seduction. It's not in the least bit sexy but he knows it will make Fernando smile. He sends it to him, placing his phone on his chest while he waits for a response.

The door opens and Jenson comes in, practically slamming the door shut behind himself. Mark frowns, sitting up, the phone falling down to his lap.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"Don't kill me," Jenson tells him. He's slightly out of breath and he looks panicked.

"Why would I kill you?" Mark asks. "Was that you at the door ages ago? What have you been doing all this time?"

"I was with Seb," Jenson says, waving his hand dismissively. "Please don't kill me," he says again.

"For what?" Mark asks. His phone beeps and he picks it up, opening the message from Fernando. It's a similar photo to Mark's, equal parts sultry and ridiculous. Mark laughs. If Jenson wasn't here he'd respond with an even more stupid one. He looks up at Jenson who's staring at him with wild eyes. Mark puts the phone down. "What's going on?"

"Me and Seb were chatting, he offered me a drink and we ended up sitting in the kitchen and..." Jenson trails off, looking sheepish.

"What did you do?" Mark asks, giving him a warning look.

"Nothing," Jenson insists. "I did nothing. We were just talking as far as I was concerned. He asked about uni. So I was telling him about living away from home and stuff and then he just... kissed me."

Mark stares at him incredulously. "What?"

"I don't know!" Jenson says, his arms flailing slightly. "I really didn't fucking see it coming."

Mark rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he looks away. "You are such an idiot."

"What?" Jenson asks.

Mark looks at him again. "So what happened? What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," Jenson insists. "It's not like I kissed him back. It was... weird."

"But what did you do?" Mark presses.

Jenson shrugs. "I sort of sat there for a bit," he replies. Mark gives him an unimpressed look. "What? I didn't know what to do. He was just kind of... slobbering on me, he didn't seem like he knew what he was doing, I don't think he's kissed anyone before. You could do with giving him some pointers actually because there was all this tongue and I didn't even have my mouth open. He's going to end up embarrassing himself if he does that to anyone else."

Mark buries his face in his hands. "You are such a fucking idiot," he mutters.

"I'm trying to be helpful," Jenson says. "I feel for the kid."

Mark looks up at him, glaring. "No," he says. "You're a fucking idiot."

Any remnant of amusement falls from Jenson's face. "Look, I'm sorry, but I didn't make this happen," he says. "I didn't encourage him."

"You've been encouraging him for _years_ ," Mark explodes. "You flirt with him constantly, even I was starting to wonder if you wanted to fuck him?"

"Are you serious?" Jenson asks incredulously. "Apart from the fact that he's sixteen, he's _Seb_. He's like my little brother. I've never flirted with him. That would be like flirting with you."

"You've been leading him on, Jenson," Mark states. Jenson stares at him in disbelief. "I kept telling you to fucking stop."

"Yeah, well, clearly seeing as I'm such an idiot I guess I needed it spelling out," Jenson bites back.

"Evidently so," Mark mutters, burying his face in his hands again. He can't deal with this right now, not on top of everything else. "You need to leave," he says.

"Mark," Jenson says, his voice timid, and Mark doesn't think he's ever heard him sound like that before. "I'm sorry. I swear to God, I love that kid and I never... I don't think of him like that. Why would I? He's _Seb_."

Mark shakes his head, looking back up. He doesn't believe that Jenson is really this oblivious, that Sebastian's schoolboy crush didn't feed his ego. Maybe he didn't outright invite it but he certainly didn't discourage it either and all Mark can think about is how fucking humiliated Sebastian must feel right now. He might be a pathetic dreamer but he didn't deserve this.

"Where is he?"

Jenson sighs heavily. "I don't know. He ran off outside."

Mark nods, getting to his feet. "You should go," he says again.

Jenson hesitates. "We okay, man?"

"You're a dick," Mark tells him. "But that's not why I'm throwing you out. I really don't think Sebastian's going to want to see you right now so maybe you should make yourself scarce. You know, do the decent thing while I tidy up your mess."

Jenson looks sheepish. "Call me later?"

"Fine," Mark agrees reluctantly. "Come on."

He ushers Jenson out the front door and then heads through the house to the sliding doors, stepping out onto the decking and surveying the garden. It's not long before he spots Sebastian's legs dangling from the tree house. Mark smiles to himself and heads over.

He was seven when he and Adrian built the tree house together. Sebastian was a toddler who spent most of that summer either falling over on the grass or attached to Christian's hip. Mark was old enough that he should have been able to accept Sebastian's presence, but he'd spent five years being the centre of his parents' universe and he didn't like that suddenly this adorable little blond thing got all the attention just from screaming loudly enough.

The tree house was all about him though. Sebastian was too little to be a part of it and Mark thought that might have been his favourite thing about it. He loved passing Adrian pieces of wood, loved helping to nail them in place, even though he seemed to miss with the hammer more often than he hit. He loved watching it take shape and feeling a sense of achievement as the pieces fitted together to build something so much greater. He wonders now if that's the feeling Adrian gets every time one of his buildings jumps from the paper into real life, a brick at a time.

He and Jenson spent a lot of time in that tree house over the next few years and he loved having his own space that Sebastian couldn't reach. When he finally got big enough to climb the ladder the shine wore off for Mark. It wasn't so special anymore; it was just one more thing that Sebastian took away from him.

He climbs up those wooden boards nailed onto the sturdy tree trunk now, and every time he does this he wishes he could go back in time. He finds Sebastian at the top, head bowed down while he swings his legs over the edge.

"Go away," he says moodily and he sounds like he's been crying.

"It's my tree house," Mark points out, climbing fully inside. He looks at the walls as he passes through, the only place he was ever allowed to put posters. It's like a catalogue of everything he loved when he was growing up. He reaches the other side and sits down next to Sebastian.

"Go away," Sebastian says again through gritted teeth, turning his face away.

Mark sighs, looking down over the edge. "I'm sorry that Jenson's a dick. He doesn't mean to be, but he really is a dick."

"Just fuck off," Sebastian tells him, turning to face him. His eyes are damp but furious looking. "You got what you wanted, didn't you? I made a total idiot of myself and he's not interested at all. So I'm sure you're feeling incredibly smug right now but I don't need you to rub my face in it, okay?"

"You think I _wanted_ this to happen?" Mark asks incredulously. "I've been trying to _stop_ this happening."

"Just leave me alone," Sebastian pleads, turning away again.

Mark leans back on his hands, looking out over the garden. He tries to put himself in Sebastian's head, tries to work out what he was thinking, because he can't see how kissing Jenson would ever have ended the way Sebastian was clearly hoping it would. Sebastian might be inexperienced but he can't believe that he's so naive he thought kissing Jenson would actually lead to a happy ending. Even in a universe where Jenson reciprocated his feelings, Sebastian would have found himself very quickly out of his depth and Mark doesn't even want to think about that. Jenson wouldn't have taken advantage. He has a horrible feeling Sebastian might have let him though.

He can't say any of this out loud, not with Sebastian so defensive, and so maybe the kindest thing Mark can do is put the final nail in the coffin.

"He has a boyfriend."

Sebastian spins around to look at him. "What?"

"Jenson," Mark explains. "He has a boyfriend."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sebastian demands. "I wouldn't have done that if I knew he had a boyfriend."

"It's only been a couple of weeks," Mark shrugs. "And I didn't tell you because I knew it would upset you. I'm not a total bastard." Sebastian looks down, seeming shy all of a sudden. "If I knew you were going to stick your tongue down his throat I definitely would have brought it up."

Sebastian pouts, playing with his hands. "He didn't let me get my tongue anywhere near his throat."

"Good," Mark says tersely. "Because if he had I would definitely have to kill him and getting rid of the body would be a total fucking pain in the arse."

Sebastian's frown deepens but Mark guesses it's because he's trying very hard not to smile. "What's his boyfriend like?"

Mark shrugs. "German."

Sebastian looks thoughtful for a moment and Mark can practically see the cogs turning. "What else?"

"I don't know," Mark responds. "Why do you want to torture yourself?"

"I don't," Sebastian says. He looks up at Mark. "I'm German."

Mark snorts a laugh. "You're not really German."

"I am," Sebastian insists.

"You spent maybe a week of your life there," Mark says. "It doesn't count."

"My parents are German," Sebastian says.

"Maybe," Mark shrugs.

Sebastian's eyes flash with anger. "Alright, fine, I get it," he spits out. "They could have been anyone, no one has a bloody clue, they didn't even leave a note."

Mark looks at him, completely bemused. "What the hell are you going on about now?"

Sebastian sniffles, hanging his head down to hide his face. "My parents didn't want me."

Mark rolls his eyes. "My parents didn't want me either," he points out.

"At least they gave a shit," Sebastian counters, looking up at him hotly, fresh tears in his eyes. "Your mum didn't want you but she cared. She made sure you went to a nice family, people who were going to love you and look after you. Mine left me in a box on the church steps." He screws his eyes shut, bowing his head again. "I was never anyone's first choice."

Mark feels himself deflate. He doesn't understand how someone as loved and praised as Sebastian can possibly feel that way. Mark's spent his whole life being jealous of him for being the obvious favourite. He wonders now if Sebastian is so deliberately flawless to make up for his perceived defects.

He shuffles closer, putting an arm around Sebastian's shoulder and pulling him into his side. "What about Christian and Adrian?" he asks. "I remember them adopting you. They were over the moon, okay?"

"I was just the next kid on the list when they said they wanted one," Sebastian dismisses. "They didn't _choose_ me."

"Yeah, that's really not how adoption works, mate," Mark tells him, shaking his head.

"And you've never liked me," Sebastian mutters.

"I like you about as much as any big brother likes his little brother," Mark responds. Sebastian tries to pull away but Mark grips him tighter, tucking him firmly under his arm. "I love you, you big dork. You always come first. _Always._ Who am I sat in a tree with right now while my best friend walks home with his tail between his legs?"

Sebastian snorts a laugh but he sags against Mark's side. Mark rests his head on top of Sebastian's.

"If I hated you that much I would have wrapped you in bacon and fed you to the dogs when you were still too little to run away," Mark tells him.

"You pushed me into a lake once," Sebastian points out.

Mark shrugs. "I knew you could swim."

Sebastian laughs fully then, the tension easing. Mark holds onto him for as long as Sebastian will let him and he has to admit that he's been in great need of a hug lately too.


	9. Chapter 9

Mark can feel Sebastian's petulant teenage slouch creeping into his posture and it embarrasses him. He's supposed to be a grown up. He's supposed to be a lot of things that he's not though. He swings the door shut behind himself and heads through to the kitchen where Christian is stirring something on the stove that smells delicious.

"Hey," Christian greets as Mark slides onto one of the stools at the island. "How was work?"

"I hate it," Mark responds.

"Good," Christian replies shortly.

Mark glares at his back. "I'm glad my misery brings you so much comfort."

"It's character building, Mark," Christian tells him. "If you hate it that much then you'll be inspired to go out there and find something you really love. Trust me, you need to do a few shit jobs and work through a lot of grief before you find your calling in life."

"Well, thanks for the life advice," Mark says sarcastically, pulling a wooden spoon from the utensils pot and playing with it. "You were miserable then?"

Christian glances at him. "Before I married your father and we found you and we started the business and we built this house... yeah, I was pretty miserable."

Mark nods, not looking up at him. "And now?"

Christian pauses. "Why would I be miserable now?"

Mark shrugs. "Did Adrian talk to you?"

"About what?" Christian asks.

"I don't know," Mark mutters, putting the spoon back and contemplating just leaving the room.

"He talks to me about a lot of things, you might need to narrow it down," Christian says.

"It doesn't matter," Mark tells him.

"Ah," Christian says knowingly. Mark looks up at him, confused. "Is this about your birthday?"

"Why would it be about my birthday?" Mark asks.

"Are you wondering if we've been discussing what to get you for your 21st?" Christian teases, a smile on his face.

"Forget it," Mark dismisses, getting to his feet.

"You'll have to decide what you want to do," Christian says, turning back to his cooking. "It's a big deal, we should invite all the family, your aunts and uncles and cousins. And Jenson and John of course. And Fernando?" he asks, giving Mark a questioning look. Mark sags back onto his stool, shaking his head. "Not Fernando?" Christian asks. "I thought you were seeing him tonight."

"I am," Mark agrees. "I just, I don't want a big deal. I don't want to do anything."

"It's your 21st," Christian says. "It's special. We have to do something."

Mark shakes his head again. He doesn't want all that attention on him. He feels like he's let them all down and he doesn't want a strained evening of everyone pretending to be proud of him. He swallows uncomfortably, watching Christian stirring away, and it's the emptiest feeling in the world. If he had one wish right now he wouldn't even know where to start; there's not one thing that doesn't need fixing.

"Dad."

Christian turns instantly at the word, abandoning what he's doing and rounding the island to pull Mark into an embrace. Mark buries his face in Christian's shoulder, squeezing his eyes tightly shut, wondering if giving in to the tears would make him weak or strong.

"Marky," Christian says soothingly, stroking Mark's hair. Mark snorts a laugh, pulling back slightly to look at him.

"You haven't called me Marky since I was about five," he says.

"You haven't called me Dad since you were about five," Christian responds. Mark smiles at him, resting his head against Christian's shoulder again. Christian squeezes him, placing a kiss on his head. "You'll be fine," he says, like he can read all Mark's fears. "Go get ready. I'm sure seeing Fernando will cheer you right up."

Mark does as he's told, taking a long shower to wash the day away from him. Christian's right, as soon as he meets Fernando at the restaurant he can barely keep the smile off his face. They're seated in a quiet corner, the soft music making everything seem more intimate.

"I have not been here before," Fernando says. "Is nice."

"Yeah," Mark nods. "They do great food."

"You bring all your dates here?" Fernando asks, picking up the menu.

Mark gives him an incredulous look. "Have you ever seen me go on a date?" He picks up his own menu. "I've come with my parents a couple of times. Family dinners and stuff."

Fernando nods and Mark takes a breath, pushing the thoughts away. Tonight is only going to be about him and Fernando.

They've spoken so much on the phone they barely have anything to catch up on but Mark finds that they don't stop talking all evening, the food almost an inconvenience. It feels so freeing to be around Fernando, something new rather than all the old problems he can't quite shift from his life. Mark catches himself wanting to reach across the table to brush his fingers against Fernando's and he blushes at the thought. Maybe he just needs a little bit of comfort right now.

True to his word, Fernando insists on splitting the bill and Mark almost feels charmed. He wonders if all dates feel like this. They sit in Mark's car in the carpark and Mark considers his key in the ignition before turning to Fernando. He smiles softly at him and Fernando looks slightly bemused but he smiles back, warm and genuine. Mark leans across the gap between them, pressing their mouths together.

They didn't kiss in the restaurant, too many people. A kiss on the cheek would be acceptable somewhere like that if Mark had brought a girl but somehow putting this on display didn't seem quite right. Fernando hums against his lips and Mark cups the side of his face, deepening the kiss. Fernando tilts his head, offering a tantalising flick of tongue that feels like a tease before he pulls away.

"Shall we go to your house?" Fernando suggests.

Mark blinks at him. "Think we'd be better going to yours, mate."

"I would like to go to yours," Fernando counters.

Mark frowns at him. "Why? You know we won't get any peace. And even if we managed to do something I think my mind would only be half on the job."

Fernando looks out of the front windscreen, a thoughtful expression on his face. Mark considers him for a moment before giving a huff and looking away, hands gripping the steering wheel.

"Don't fuck me about."

Fernando looks at him. "What?"

Mark turns to face him again, trying to keep his irritation in check but his voice comes out strained. "If you don't want to have sex with me, just say you don't want to have sex with me."

"I don't want to have sex with you," Fernando replies blandly. Mark rolls his eyes. "Not yet," he adds.

Mark nods. "Okay."

"I shouldn't have to justify it," Fernando says defensively.

"You fucking don't," Mark snaps back. "I didn't ask, did I? Whatever." He looks away but he can't let it drop, frustration building in him and making him spin back around. "I like how you assume you can't even be alone with me because obviously I can't control myself. Even if we went back to yours I wouldn't just expect... We don't have to have _sex_. I just thought a little bit of privacy might be nice, that's all."

"You're the one who brought up sex," Fernando points out calmly.

"But that's what you were thinking," Mark insists. "I don't mind waiting, I really don't, but you can _trust_ me. I don't need parental supervision to stop me putting my dick in someone."

"That is good to know," Fernando responds dismissively, looking out of the side window.

Mark knows that he's probably in the wrong here, knows that Fernando is feeling insecure and maybe inexperienced, but he hates the implication behind it. Mark wants to be alone with Fernando, wants to kiss him everywhere, touch him everywhere, undress him and rub against him and fuck him so long and hard he'll forget his own name, thoughts that have returned to him over and over again since their make out session under the fake stars in his bedroom, but he'd be happy with any tiny part of that puzzle, even if they just lie on Fernando's bed and stare at the blank ceiling and guess where the stars might go. Fernando doesn't believe that though and it hurts. Mark can't help but wonder who exactly Fernando thinks he is.

Mark sighs. "I can't have you be another thing in my life that I have to worry about," he says.

Fernando turns to look at him. "What?"

"I have enough shit going on," Mark says. "I have a shitty job that I hate, I have a degree that's proving pretty useless to me, I'm further away from my dreams than I was when I was sixteen, I have a brother and a best friend who can't even be in the same room as each other, my parents are... I don't even know what they're doing but knowing my luck they're probably going to get divorced because everything I touch just turns to shit. And it's my birthday next week. My _birthday_. And I can't have all the people I love in one place because I feel like everything's going to fall apart." He squeezes his eyes shut tight, forcing himself to take a deep breath. He shakes his head. "I can't deal with you thinking I'm some kind of sex fiend on top of that, alright. I can't."

"That's not what I think," Fernando tells him.

Mark turns to look at him. "Then why can't we be alone together? Because I thought we had something."

"We do," Fernando insists.

"But you don't trust me," Mark says sadly.

"I think I might be in love with you," Fernando tells him.

Mark rolls his eyes, looking away, the words feeling horribly coercive. "I can't see how that's relevant to what we're talking about."

"Of course is relevant," Fernando asserts.

Mark looks at him again. "If I thought I was in love with someone then I can't imagine why I wouldn't want to be intimate with them, why I wouldn't want to just fucking revel in it."

"If," Fernando say regrettably, looking down at his lap.

Mark frowns in confusion, feeling completely lost. "What?"

Fernando shakes his head. "I think is time I went home."

Mark nods. "Where are you staying now?" he asks, finally turning the keys in the ignition to start the engine.

"I will get a taxi," Fernando dismisses. "Is too far."

"Taxi'll cost you a fortune from here, mate," Mark tells him. "I don't mind, I like driving. Where to?"

Fernando smiles slightly, looking at him sideways. "Is not far from where we were last year. I will give you directions when we get near."

"Sure thing," Mark agrees, pulling out of the parking spot.

"Thank you," Fernando says earnestly.

Mark shrugs, turning onto the road. The drive isn't as awkward as it easily could be. They don't talk much but it's not filled with strained silences either. Mark keeps remembering Fernando's sad little 'if', the defeated way in which he'd said it, and they're nearly in Cirencester by the time Mark works it out. Fernando is upset that Mark is talking in hypothetical situations, but isn't 'I think' a hypothetical situation too? Mark's not getting tangled in 'I love you's right now though, hypothetical or otherwise. There's not enough space in his life for that.

They pull up outside the building, Fernando taking off his seatbelt but not moving. Mark drums his fingers on the steering wheel.

"Which one is it?" he asks.

Fernando points. "First floor. Is nice." Mark nods. There's no lights on so he guesses Jenson isn't there. Fernando turns to face him. "Maybe is not you I don't trust. I do not want to regret anything."

Mark shrugs. "I don't understand why I'd be a regret."

Fernando looks sad. "Do not think like this." He leans across the space between them, leaving a kiss on Mark's lips that lingers just too long to be a peck. "Call me tomorrow? On your lunch break?"

Mark smiles. "Okay," he agrees.

"And do not worry about your birthday," Fernando says, reaching across to squeeze his hand.

"Birthday's are for kids anyway," Mark dismisses. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, mate."

Fernando nods. "I will look forward to it."

They say goodbye and Mark turns the car around, heading back home. On the long drive he reflects on how things were so much easier when there was hundreds of miles between them and physical intimacy wasn't a possibility. They're clearly not on the same page here and Mark can live without sex but he's not sure if he can handle Fernando not wanting him in the way he feels like he _needs_ Fernando.

He smells cooking once again as he returns home but it's not quite so delicious this time. He understands instantly why when he finds Sebastian in the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

Sebastian glances at him before turning back to poke at the soggy piece of bread in the pan. "I couldn't sleep. I was trying to make eggy bread but it's not working. I can't do it like Christian."

Mark considers the mess in the pan for a moment and is inclined to agree. "Where is he?"

"They went to bed a while ago," Sebastian replies.

"They?" Mark asks. "Both of them?"

"Yeah," Sebastian says. "Why?"

"Together?" Mark asks, glancing towards the stairs.

Sebastian shrugs. "Yeah, I guess so. What's wrong?"

"Did they seem happy?" Mark asks. "I mean, were they... Did they..."

Sebastian looks at him. "What are you talking about?"

Mark smiles to himself. "They never go to bed together anymore."

"Christian was in his study with him for a while and then they said goodnight," Sebastian explains. "I guess they were done with a project and could take an early night."

"God, you're so adorably naive," Mark says, pushing him out of the way of the stove. "You're messing this up, just let me start again."

He dumps Sebastian's woeful attempt straight into the bin and goes to the fridge for more eggs. Sebastian sits down at the island, watching him.

"Why do you always want to think about them..." He trails off, crinkling his nose.

"I don't," Mark insists, cracking eggs into the bowl and reaching for the whisk. "I'm just glad they're communicating."

"Having sex isn't communicating," Sebastian dismisses.

"You're not allowed to say that until you've had sex," Mark tells him. "It's much more than insert tab A into slot B."

He soaks the bread in the mixture before tossing it into the frying pan, thinking over his own words. That's why Fernando's rejection hurts him so much; for once in his life his main motive for sex isn't just instant gratification. Mark doesn't understand most of the feelings that Fernando gives him and that kind of narrowed down, only person in the world perspective that good sex gives you is the only thing he can compare it to; it's the only way he thinks he'll ever be able to express it to Fernando.

"What do you want for your birthday?" Sebastian asks as Mark flips the bread over.

"A farm," Mark responds dreamily. "Do you think the folks would buy me a farm?"

"No," Sebastian tells him.

"Me neither," Mark agrees. He finishes up the bread and scoops it onto a plate, presenting it to Sebastian. "There you go. Enjoy." He heads towards the door.

"You're going to bed?" Sebastian asks, looking disappointed.

"Work in the morning," Mark tells him. "Responsible adult and all that."

"Thank you," Sebastian says. "For the eggy bread."

Mark nods his acknowledgement. "Night."

As he heads up the stairs he wonders if a better big brother would have stuck around to ask why Sebastian was up so late attempting to make himself comfort food. He glances down the hallway towards Christian and Adrian's bedroom door and he hopes this is a good sign and not a last ditch attempt to salvage something. At least one person in this house should be able to have a kiss that doesn't end in rejection. The law of averages must surely be on their side.

Mark closes his bedroom door as quietly as he can behind himself, deliberately taking longer than necessary to get ready for bed so that by the time he turns the light off again the stars are lit up, something to keep him company as he drifts off to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Mark gets up early on his birthday because it would be really nice if he could get out of the house without his parents making a big deal. The alarm going off is painful but he only snoozes it twice before he drags himself out from under the covers, padding sleepily to the bathroom.

By the time he's washed and dressed and ready to go, Christian is already in the kitchen making coffee. Mark smiles to himself, knowing he can't escape it.

"Morning," he greets.

Christian grins at him. "Happy birthday."

He puts a cup of coffee down on the island and Mark knows he has no choice but to go and retrieve it. He slides onto one of the stools, taking a grateful sip. Christian leans against the other side of the island, looking at him with something like wonder.

"Twenty-one," he says. "I feel very old."

"You are very old," Mark tells him.

Adrian comes into the room, placing his hands on Mark's shoulders and giving a squeeze. "Happy birthday," he says before carrying on through the room. "I'll go get your present. We wanted to give it to you this morning so I didn't have to hide it in my study for another day."

Mark gives Christian an intrigued look. "Hide it?"

Christian smiles. "We've still got some money to give you. We can write you a cheque unless you decide there's something you'd like us to get you with it."

Mark shakes his head, taking another sip of his coffee. "You don't have to do that. I have a job, I'm making my own money."

"That's not the point," Christian tells him firmly. "You're a grown up, you're making your way in the world, we want to help you."

Mark blinks at him, feeling a little overwhelmed at the sentiment. It's the first time Christian's ever accepted the fact that Mark is actually an adult now and he feels suddenly more capable for it. He lifts his coffee cup back up to his lips to hide his expression, taking a tentative sip as he lets it sink in. This is something he wants to live up to rather than just one more thing that terrifies him.

"Thank you," he says earnestly once he's composed himself a little.

Christian smiles at him. "If you're not sure what you want to do with it yet then put it in a savings account and save it for when you really need it. I know it's never easy but we don't want you to struggle. We want to give you the best start we can."

Mark nods his agreement, completely at a loss what to say.

"Here we are," Adrian announces.

Mark looks over to see Adrian holding a fluffy, white cat that looks like it should belong to a Bond villain. He slowly lowers the cup back down onto the counter, staring at Adrian's armful, completely speechless. He hates cats, the self-important little fucks. He's aware that both Adrian and Christian are looking at him, waiting for his reaction, and he tries to make himself look pleased.

"It's a cat," he says stupidly. He looks from Adrian to Christian and back again. "You got me a cat."

Adrian laughs. "She's a Siberian, her name's Kiska."

Mark frowns. "Her name's what?"

"Kiska," Adrian says, bringing the cat nearer. "She's nearly a year old. She belonged to a client but they're moving and they can't take her with them so we thought she'd be perfect for you."

Mark tries not to give him an incredulous look. He likes dogs, chickens, sheep, donkeys. When the fuck has he ever acted like the kind of person who would want a cat?

"Cats are good company and low maintenance," Christian says as though reading his reluctance.

"She's very docile," Adrian tells him, leaning down to pass the cat over. "Good little cuddler."

There's a look on Adrian's face that implies _just what you need_ and Mark is embarrassed that his parents think he's so pathetic they have to buy him a cat so he can have a little affection in his life. He's certain they mean well and he's touched at the effort but a moulting ball of fluff that will try to kill him when its grumpy and be indifferent to him the rest of the time is really not what he needs in his life.

He strokes his hand over Kiska's soft fur and she pushes her head demandingly upwards, rubbing against him. Close up he can see the details in her fur, the thin grey stripes that run through it. She's good looking, there's no doubt about that. He thinks they can probably learn to co-exist.

"Thanks," he says, looking up at Christian and Adrian. Christian smiles at him, seeming genuinely pleased, and Mark feels bad for having to fake his reaction to their gift. He looks at Kiska again. "She's sweet," he says. It's not quite a lie.

Christian stands up straight, seemingly satisfied. "What do you want for breakfast?"

Mark shakes his head, getting to his feet, the cat held in his arms. "I have to go. I'll get something on the way to work." He considers Kiska for a moment before putting her down on the island.

"Not on the worktop, Mark," Christian says, sounding pained.

Mark picks her up again, placing her down on the floor. She leans briefly against his leg and then moves to repeatedly rub her face against the corner of the island.

"Do I need to feed her?" Mark asks.

"I thought you were supposed to be good with animals," Christian replies sarcastically.

"I meant now," Mark says. "Does she need feeding before I go?"

"I'll take care of it," Adrian assures him, gesturing him towards the door. "You get to work. We'll go through it tonight."

Mark nods. "Thank you." He considers the cat one last time before looking down at himself. There's white cat hairs all over his dark shirt. He tries not to sigh, accepting hugs from both Christian and Adrian before heading for the door.

At work he's glad no one knows it's his birthday. The last thing he wants it a big deal and he's happy to just keep his head down, get on with his work and get out of there. At lunch, as he watches the guys chatting about their lives, laughing and joking with each other, he thinks he probably should be making more of an effort with them. In his head this is just temporary, a means to an end, but in reality he doesn't know how long he'll be stuck here before he sorts himself out. He's afraid of getting too close, feeling like the comfort of having friends here will suck him in and make him stay, but maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to find some middle ground.

When he gets home he tries to bypass the kitchen and go straight upstairs but he hears Christian calling his name. He sighs, hoping he hasn't got any big surprise planned. He told them he was going out tonight. He's relieved to find Christian sitting at the island with a cup of coffee and a work portfolio rather than slaving over a birthday meal.

"Hey," Mark greets.

Christian looks up at him. "How was work?"

"Fine," Mark shrugs. "I was just going to go get ready. What's up?"

"Just go see your father for a minute," Christian tells him.

"Okay," Mark agrees, frowning slightly as he heads through. He knocks on the door and let's himself in. "Christian said you wanted me?"

Adrian smiles at him. "Your cat thinks she lives in here," he says, nodding towards where Kiska is sat on the windowsill.

"Oh," Mark says, going over to her. "Sorry."

"It's no problem," Adrian assures him. "But I don't want to get accused of stealing your birthday present."

Mark stares at the cat thinking how little that would bother him. "Come on, Kiska," he says, scooping her up and holding her to his chest.

"Have a good time tonight," Adrian tells him.

"I'll try," Mark agrees, carrying Kiska out of the room. He takes her upstairs to his bedroom and then considers what to do with her before putting her down on the bed. She wanders around it while he turns to the closet, picking out some clothes and throwing them on the bed beside her. Kiska looks up at him and meows. "I have to shower," he says, petting her briefly on the head. She pushes into the touch. Mark pulls his hand away, heading for the bathroom.

When he returns, towel wrapped around his waist, he finds Kiska curled up on the clean clothes he laid out for himself. He groans, closing the door.

"Really?" he asks. "You had to fucking lie there?"

He sits down on the bed beside her, feeling utterly defeated. Most annoying birthday present ever. Kiska gets up, stretching before climbing up onto his lap, curling herself back into a ball. He sighs.

"I don't have time for this," he says but he finds himself tickling her head anyway, watching as her eyes close contentedly and she starts to purr. Being a cat must be so easy. Mark's sure she never has to worry about the future or being a disappointment. Cats don't give a fuck what anyone thinks.

"Come on," he says, scooping her up. He looks around the room, his eyes landing on the reading nook. He smiles. "You'll like it in here."

He sits down in the nook, putting Kiska onto the cushions beside him. She sniffs around and then starts to pad on one of the cushions, making herself at home.

"Poppy used to love it in here," Mark tells her. He swallows, feeling homesick for a time when he used to curl up in here with her as a teenager. She could make any bad day better. He leans over, petting Kiska. Maybe something fluffy to love really is what he needs in his life.

"Right, I'm going to be late," he says, forcing himself to get up and retrieve his clothes. There's cat hairs on his T-shirt. He throws Kiska a weary look which is obviously ignored and then grabs himself a different shirt, pulling it on and rubbing the towel over his hair. He pockets his phone and opens the door, glancing at Kiska. "See you later."

As Mark negotiates the country roads as evening starts to fall he knows this is a drive he'll have to get used to. It feels weird already that Jenson and Fernando are nearly an hour away from him and term hasn't even started yet. He likes driving though, likes putting the radio on and feeling the momentum, so he tells himself it's not too big a hardship. He knows that visits will have to be planned in advance though and he'll always have to make a round trip so long as he has work in the morning.

He knocks on the door and is immediately greeted by Fernando enveloping him in a huge hug.

"Happy birthday!"

Mark grins, sliding his arms around Fernando as their lips meet, sharing a kiss that manages to be somehow chaste yet filled with filthy promise at the same time. Their mouths fit together and Mark pulls Fernando in a little tighter, making him rise up on his tiptoes. Fernando smiles, pulling back.

"Food first," he says.

"Okay, deal," Mark agrees, letting Fernando drag him inside the flat.

"Is all Spanish, I hope you don't mind, is the only thing I am good at cooking," Fernando says, attending to something sizzling in a large pan.

"Fine by me," Mark tells him, peering through into the living room. "Where's Jenson?"

"He is with his father tonight," Fernando replies.

Mark frowns, looking at him. "Why? What happened?"

"Nothing happen," Fernando says, looking confused. "He stay there sometimes. Is nice and quiet for me." He grins at Mark. "I think when term starts he will be here all the time."

"Oh," Mark says. "I thought you both wanted to make me a birthday dinner, that's all."

"He was in charge of dessert," Fernando tells him, gesturing towards a cake on the counter, smothered in chocolate frosting, 21 spelt out in mini-marshmallows. "I hope you do not mind," Fernando apologises. "But you say you want something quiet and then he thought maybe would be nice to be just the two of us."

Mark smiles at him. "Definitely nice," he agrees, though he can't help feeling a little like Jenson has dumped him. They haven't seen each other much since the major kiss drama with Sebastian and he was looking forward to catching up.

"Sit then," Fernando instructs. "Tapas first."

Mark sits at the small kitchen table as Fernando lays dishes out in front of him, each one of them colourful and smelling delicious. Fernando explains them as Mark tucks in, smiling proudly whenever Mark makes a pleased noise, nodding his head around the mouthful. Not only does it taste good but Mark feels connected to Fernando, experiencing this bit of his culture.

"Paella next," Fernando announces, returning to his big pan.

Mark watches as he puts the finishing touches to the meal before plating it up, turning around to present it proudly to Mark. Mark smiles at him, feeling ridiculously loved-up in that moment. It's all just so intimate and domestic, having Fernando cook for him like there's nothing else he'd rather be doing. Mark congratulates himself on insisting on a quiet night in when everyone around him was trying to push him into having a big party.

Fernando talks about Spain and his mother's cooking while they eat and Mark savours every anecdote like he savours every mouthful until he's absolutely stuffed but pleasantly content.

"Cake?" Fernando offers.

Mark grimaces, shaking his head. "Can't eat another bite, mate."

"But Jenson will be upset if you don't try his cake," Fernando says.

"I'll take some home, tell him I tried it," Mark dismisses.

"He'll know," Fernando insists.

"Does he have a psychic link to his cake?" Mark asks.

"Probably," Fernando responds. Mark smiles. "But you have to try a bit."

"Can I lie on the sofa and die first?" Mark asks.

Fernando smiles. "If you want. So long as it is only temporary. I will tidy up."

Mark nods, getting to his feet with a groan. "Don't be long."

He lays out on the sofa, closing his eyes as he listens to the sound of Fernando piling pots up in the sink. Domestic. He's never shared anything quite like this with someone before. It's new and exciting and terrifying.

"Move up," Fernando tells him.

Mark cracks an eye open to see Fernando standing over him. "Can't. Dead."

"My cooking is not that bad," Fernando says, trying to nudge him over.

Mark smiles, opening his eyes fully. "You cooking's the best."

Fernando climbs onto the sofa, lying down alongside him, his head on Mark's chest and an arm over his stomach. Mark hums contentedly, closing his eyes again as he wraps his arms around him.

"What are you thinking about?" Fernando asks.

"I was thinking that if I'd done my Master's we'd probably be living together and this would be really weird," Mark says.

"Weird?" Fernando asks and Mark can practically hear the crinkle of his nose.

"Trying to negotiate a new relationship while we were under the same roof," Mark explains. "It's difficult enough as it is."

"Difficult?" Fernando asks, rubbing his cheek against Marks chest.

"Confusing," Mark amends, but he realises that's not quite the right word either. "It's... like a logic puzzle where you need to get all the pieces to slot into place. I don't have a fucking clue what I'm talking about."

He feels Fernando grin against him. "I love you."

"I know you do," Mark assures him. "You keep telling me."

Fernando laughs, squeezing Mark's side before pushing himself up, landing his lips on Mark's. The kiss is immediately much more passionate than the one at the door, Fernando licking over Mark's bottom lip until he opens up to him which really doesn't take long. Fernando shifts his body as he kisses him deeper, a sensuous slide of tongue followed by Fernando climbing fully on top of him, bracketing himself between Mark's legs. Mark groans, a noise of frustration as much as anything else.

"You cannot pick now as the time you want to have sex," he says. "I'm in a food coma here."

Fernando grins at him. "We're just kissing." Mark nods but his dick definitely already has other ideas. "Do you want me to stop?" Fernando asks, concern creeping into his features.

Mark shakes his head. "Don't ever stop," he pleads, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind Fernando's ear. Fernando's eyes go soft and he leans back in, starting from scratch and seducing him with the kiss all over again.

Mark can't help the way his body moves against Fernando, the way his hands grope him closer, but he's definitely not the only one whose body is working on instinct as Fernando grinds down against him, making a noise that goes straight to Mark's already very interested cock. Mark groans in response, pulling back, panted breaths shared between them.

Fernando shifts, resting his head back down against Mark's chest. Mark sneaks a hand under his shirt, tracing little circles against his lower back with the tips of his fingers. Fernando hums contentedly and it makes Mark glow.

"Time for cake?" Fernando asks.

"Think it might be time for a cold shower, mate," Mark responds.

Fernando lifts his head and Mark opens his eyes to meet his gaze. "I do not want to be a cocktease."

Mark smiles and a million comebacks run through his head but in the end he just shakes his head. "Don't you dare change a thing," he says, his voice deep and rumbly. Fernando's eyes melt into that softness again and he brushes his lips once against Mark's before resting his head back down again.

They hold each other for a long time, the urgency lifting from Mark's skin but the deep down longing staying with him. He's not sure even sex would cure it now though; this need he has for Fernando has gone well past the physical. It makes Mark glad that they've waited because he doesn't think he ever would have discovered these emotions if he'd managed to get Fernando on a plate like every other boy he's ever wanted to fuck.

"Cake," he finally announces, snapping himself out of his reverie.

They sit at the kitchen table having cut little more than a sliver each, both still too full to indulge in a large slice. Mark tastes it and hums his appreciation, looking up at Fernando.

"Is good," Fernando agrees.

"Yeah," Mark nods, taking out his phone.

_To: Jenson_  
From: Mark  
20:38  
This cake is fucking amazing! Thank you, mate, I really appreciate it :) 

"So, what did you get for your birthday?" Fernando asks.

Mark looks up at him. "My parents got me a cat."

"A cat?" Fernando asks, looking confused. "I didn't think you liked cats."

Mark snorts a laugh. "I don't," he agrees. He takes another bite of his cake. "I don't know what they were thinking. They got her from some client. In fact I bet they didn't even pay for her, they probably just got given this cat and thought 'Well, I guess we don't have to look for a birthday present for Mark now, let's just give him this.'"

"I am sure they thought you would like it," Fernando states. "I have met your parents, they care very much."

"Yeah," Mark mumbles, feeling embarrassed. He remembers the earnest looks on their faces, Christian insisting they would help him find his way in the world. They've only ever wanted what was best for him.

His phone chimes beside him.

_To: Mark_  
From: Jenson  
20:42  
You're welcome. I bet it tastes even better smeared on Spanish flesh ;) 

Mark smiles to himself, sliding his phone back into his pocket as he finishes his last bite of cake. "Well, I should get going," he says. "Working in the morning and I still have an hour's drive ahead of me."

Fernando nods. "When you are not working one time you will have to stay."

Mark looks at him, trying to work out how innocent the offer is. "Yeah," he agrees. "That'd be nice. You do have a comfy sofa."

"I would not make you sleep on the sofa," Fernando responds, giving him a look.

Mark smiles, getting to his feet. "Thanks for a lovely meal. I was dreading today but thanks to you it's been really good."

"I am glad," Fernando says, leaning in to hug him tight. "Birthdays should always be good. They are special." Mark nods, pulling away. "Drive safely," Fernando tells him.

"I will, mate," Mark assures him. He places a kiss on Fernando's lips before heading for the door.

By the time he gets home he's more than ready to climb into bed. Kiska is curled up in the reading nook and Mark smiles to himself, wondering if she's slept there all night. He goes over, sitting down beside her. She gives a sleepy little mew, turning over, and Mark indulges her with a little tummy tickle.

"Your life is so hard, right?" he mutters. There's a knock at the door. "Yeah?" he calls, pulling his hand away from the cat and getting to his feet. Sebastian lets himself in.

"Hey," he says. "Happy birthday. I wanted to give you your gift." He holds it up nervously as though he doesn't know what Mark will think of it.

"Thanks," Mark responds, taking the neatly wrapped parcel from him and sitting down on the bed with it. He tears into the paper and finds a little wooden toy farm inside. He smiles to himself.

"You said you wanted a farm," Sebastian shrugs. "And I know that's not what you meant, but..."

"This is perfect," Mark tells him, offering him a huge smile. "I'm glad someone in this house listens to me. Christian and Adrian got me a cat," he says, gesturing towards Kiska.

"Yeah, I know," Sebastian says. "I was playing with her in Adrian's study yesterday. She's cool."

Mark makes a noncommittal noise, knowing Sebastian is the last person he should be moaning about this to; it's the easiest way for it to get back to Christian and Adrian. He sighs, looking back down at his farm. "Thank you for this," he says earnestly.

Sebastian shrugs again, blushing slightly. "You'll get the real thing one day. I mean, I don't get why you want a career from the 19th century, but I know it would make you happy."

"Simpler life," Mark says, smiling.

Sebastian nods. "That sounds kind of nice, actually."

Mark looks up, considering him. Sebastian's been pretty withdrawn since the whole thing with Jenson and Mark's aware that they haven't really spoken about it since that day. A responsible big brother might take this as an opportunity to broach the subject but Mark doubts Sebastian would respond and even if he did, Mark wouldn't know all the right things to say. He knows that Sebastian is stuck though, caught up in his own failure, and it's a feeling Mark's all too familiar with. Sebastian's big mouth gave Mark the push forward he needed so maybe Mark can return the favour.

"Well, I'll let you go to bed," Sebastian says awkwardly.

"Thanks for the present," Mark tells him. "It's my favourite one."

Sebastian ducks his head, looking touched. "Night," he says, shoving his hands into his pockets as he heads towards the door.


	11. Chapter 11

He hears about it over lunch and he's incredibly grateful that he decided to start making an effort with his work colleagues. It helps the days pass quicker for one thing and he can feel the guys respond better to him. The part of the job he hates the most is having to direct other people, he'd much rather just do something himself if he wants it doing, but he knows that's not how it works. Getting out of his office a little more does seem to make that side of the job easier somehow.

He sits down at a table with some of the guys for lunch when the conversation stops, making him feel instantly like he's intruding. One of them turns to him.

"You're interested in farms, right? You should talk to Pete."

Mark shakes his head in confusion. "What?"

"He's just inherited one from his grandad, he's looking to offload it."

Mark practically inhales his lunch and goes to find Pete, following him around as he checks the temperatures of the various tanks, jotting the results down on his clipboard.

"I don't think it counts as a farm," he dismisses. "It hasn't been used for decades, it's a wreck. I didn't even know he still had the thing to be honest. It's over the border in Wales, I think I went there once when I was a kid."

"Can I look at it?" Mark asks.

Pete sighs, pausing in what he's doing. "Look, I've got a developer interested, they've offered me a really good price for the land, more than some falling down farmhouse would be worth."

"But can I look at it?" Mark insists.

Pete hesitates and Mark can tell he doesn't want to say no to the boss, especially not when Mark is looking at him so pleadingly.

"I'm sorry," Pete says, "But if you could afford to match their offer I really don't think you'd be working here."

"Just let me look," Mark perseveres. "If I can turn it into a business it'll be worth more to you than the pay out from the developers. Besides, it would be a shame to tear all that history down, right?"

Pete stares down at his clipboard, tapping his pen against it. He takes a deep breath, letting it out as a hiss between his teeth before meeting Mark's eyes. "You can go see it if you really want. It's probably just a waste of your time though and I'm really not promising you anything."

Mark grins, feeling like a kid on Christmas morning. "Thank you, you're amazing, I really appreciate it."

Pete looks slightly bemused, offering his a wary smile before continuing with his checks.

When Mark gets home that evening he heads straight to Adrian's study, knocking on the half-open door before letting himself in. "Hey."

"Hello," Adrian responds, taking a moment to look up from his sketching. When he does he considers Mark who's practically bouncing on his feet. "You alright?"

"I need to ask you a favour," Mark tells him.

Adrian leans away from his drawing board, turning to face him fully. "Go on," he agrees somewhat sceptically.

"This guy at work has a farm that he needs to sell," Mark begins.

Adrian's expression falls, turning reluctant. "Mark, I know we said we'd help you out but we can't afford that," he says apologetically.

"I don't want you to buy it for me," Mark dismisses. "I just wanted you to come and look at it with me. Apparently it's pretty much falling down, I thought you could tell me if it's salvageable."

Adrian nods. "I could do that," he agrees. "But you need to be realistic about this, Mark. Where are you going to get the money from?"

"I want to rent it from him, turn it into a business," Mark explains.

"That's still going to take money," Adrian tells him.

"I know that," Mark replies, feeling increasingly exasperated. "I'll get a business loan." Adrian presses his lips together into a straight line and Mark can tell he's trying very hard not to give him a lecture. "Do you know what you taught me?" Mark asks. "You taught me that you don't give up on your dreams. You taught me that if something doesn't exist you have to create it. Like you did with this house. Like you did with your business. That's what I want to do. I want to create it."

Adrian smiles, reaching out to put an arm around Mark. "I am so incredibly proud of you right now. But I just don't want you getting your hopes up. If it were that easy, you'd be doing it already."

"I know," Mark sighs, leaning against him. "But this is an opportunity. I don't want to waste it." Adrian nods his agreement. "I have the day off tomorrow," Mark tells him. "Are you busy?"

"Nothing I can't juggle around," Adrian responds. "A father-son road trip sounds like fun."

The farm is two hours from home but only an hour from Fernando and Jenson. Mark might like to be a little closer but they're travel times he can live with. The dirt road leading up to the site is overgrown and has clearly been unused for a long time. They only make it about halfway up before they have to abandon the car and walk.

The views are breathtaking and Mark feels an instant want that surpasses anything he's ever felt before. This is where he's supposed to be. They come over a crest and the actual farm comes into view. It's definitely seen better days. The farmhouse itself is small and seriously weathered, as though it's stood against the elements for hundreds of years. All the windows and doors and haphazardly boarded up, tiles missing from the roof. Mark doesn't find his enthusiasm waning at all though.

There's a padlock holding the boarding over the front door and Mark takes the key from his pocket, letting them both inside. It's dark and gloomy, little light getting in. There's broken furniture and fittings, rubbish on the floor, layers of dust all over everything. Mark wrinkles his nose at the musty smell, turning to Adrian who has remained silent. The look on his face is all business, weighing up the property and looking for potential. Mark doesn't disturb him, just follows his lead, trailing him around the house as he taps on walls and inspects fixtures, waiting for a verdict.

There's a cosy sitting room with an open fire, currently filled with soot and logs and a couple of dead birds. There's a larger kitchen with a dining table and a big aga that Mark doubts has worked in decades. There's a utility room with old boots still lined up along the wall, evidence that it was once a busy, working farm. Upstairs there's two decent sized bedrooms and a bathroom and Mark's already starting to imagine himself here, mentally placing his own furniture in.

He stands in the larger of the two bedrooms, staring at the boarded up window, and he can't help himself. He opens up the ancient window frame, half expecting it to come off in his hand, and then he pries one of the boards away, checking out the view.

"Wow," he says, taking in the rolling fields that belong to the house. He pictures waking up to this every day, little white dots of sheep scattered over the green. It's everything he's ever dreamed of.

"That's quite a view," Adrian agrees, coming to stand beside him. It's the first time he's spoken since they arrived. Mark turns to face him. "There's nothing structurally wrong with the house," Adrian tells him. "It looks sound to me." Mark can feel the smile tugging at his lips. "You'd still have to completely gut it," Adrian warns him. "It's a big job. A massive job. You don't have any experience with a project like this, Mark."

"But you do," Mark points out.

"You couldn't afford my fees," Adrian tells him dryly.

Mark smiles. "But you'd help?" he asks sweetly, knowing he's playing the helpless kid in a big world card.

Adrian considers the view for a few moments. "Let's check out the land."

There's a barn that's mostly rotten and probably needs pulling down and some old farm equipment that's been left out to rust and looks fairly useless now. That's not what Mark's really interested in though. The fields themselves are perfect for livestock and it would be a travesty to put a housing estate here. Mark's determined that he won't let it happen.

"You should talk to Christian," Adrian says once they're back in the car.

"About what?" Mark asks.

"Putting together a business proposal," Adrian explains. "Trust me, if anyone can convince a bank manager something's worth investing in, it's him."

Mark smiles at him. "You think I can do this?"

"I think you should look at your options very carefully," Adrian tells him. "And Christian's the man to help you with that. I told you, I just draw pretty pictures."

"Okay," Mark agrees.

If he's honest with himself he's been putting off having this conversation with Christian because he can imagine the response he'll get. If Christian starts treating him like a kid then Mark knows he's likely to start acting like one and that won't get him anywhere. He needs to believe in himself and believe in this project because determination is the only way he'll see it through. He knows that Adrian's right though, he's going to need Christian's help. He just hopes he can convince him that he's good enough to take this on.

"Can you do me one more favour?" Mark asks as they get back home.

"What?" Adrian asks warily.

Mark walks through to the kitchen, opening up the dishwasher and peering inside before checking the time. "In about half an hour can you call Seb down to empty the dishwasher?"

Adrian looks at him suspiciously. "Why? What are you going to do to him?"

"Nothing," Mark dismisses. "I just want to show him something and I know he won't come down if I ask."

"Fine," Adrian agrees. "But if there's drama I had nothing to do with it and you're the one answering to Christian."

Mark smiles at him. "Deal. And thanks for today, I really appreciate it. Best dad ever."

"Don't let Christian hear you say that," Adrian jokes, winking at him as he heads towards his study.

Adrian keeps up his side of the bargain and Sebastian comes down the stairs but he doesn't stomp like he usually does. Mark's not sure if that's a good sign or not. Maybe he's too depressed to be petulant or maybe he's starting to come out of the other side of it. Mark sits on one of the stools at the island, starting to get nervous when Sebastian's nearly finished his task.

"Are you going to help me or just stare at me?" Sebastian asks, giving him an irritated look.

"Stare," Mark responds distractedly, checking his watch. A knock at the door makes him grin. "Be right back." He opens the door to Jenson and Nico, ushering them inside towards the kitchen. "Hey guys, come in."

Sebastian glances towards them and then slowly straightens up from leaning over the dishwasher, his posture shrinking as though he wants to disappear. He looks younger than he has in a long time. Jenson has a similar reaction, standing stiffly as though he suddenly has no idea what to do with his limbs.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi," Sebastian returns.

"This is Nico," Mark introduces. "This is my little brother, Seb."

"Nice to meet you," Nico nods.

"Uh, yeah," Sebastian replies, his eyes shifting around as though he's looking desperately for an exit.

"So," Jenson says, turning to Mark.

"Seb can speak German," Mark tells Nico, completely ignoring Jenson.

"Oh," Nico replies. "Cool. You learn it in school?"

"I taught myself," Sebastian says tightly.

"Yeah?" Nico asks.

"He's practically fluent," Mark says.

"I _am_ fluent," Sebastian insists.

Nico says something to him in German and Sebastian looks like he really wants to roll his eyes but he responds in kind, giving what seems to be a long, detailed response and Mark can tell he's trying to prove a point. He feels kind of proud of him, even though he's clearly being a stubborn bastard.

"You know, Nico speaks loads of languages too," Mark tells Sebastian.

"Not loads," Nico dismisses. "I like languages though. It's like problem solving. And I grew up with a lot of languages. My mum's German and my dad's Finnish and..."

"Finnish?" Sebastian asks, his eyes coming alive before he starts talking quickly in a different language.

Nico shakes his head, laughing slightly. "Oh, I can't speak it."

Sebastian frowns. "You learnt different languages but not the one your dad speaks?" Nico shrugs, unconcerned. "Are you an idiot?"

"Seb," Mark warns. "Play nice or I'll put you back in your room."

"But that's why I learnt German first," Sebastian says. "Because my parents were German. Why would you choose anything else?"

"Your parents are German?" Nico asks, before looking to Jenson. "You didn't tell me that." He turns back to Sebastian. "When did they move over here?"

"Not _these_ parents," Sebastian states, getting increasingly exasperated, and Mark feels like he really needs to pull the plug on this, it's getting rapidly out of hand. "I'm adopted," Sebastian says.

"I didn't know that, sorry," Nico says, clearly embarrassed as he turns to Jenson with a lost expression.

"Well, it would be pretty hard for them to have kids considering neither of them has a uterus," Sebastian explodes.

"Uh," Nico says awkwardly.

"We have two dads," Mark explains. "They're gay." Nico nods, still looking confused.

"Hey, so, the tickets," Jenson prompts, giving Mark a pleading look.

"Yeah," Mark agrees, glancing at Sebastian who's still scowling at Nico. "Good idea, I'll go get them."

"We'll wait in the hall," Jenson suggests, lightly taking hold of Nico's hand to guide him towards the door and Mark sees Sebastian looking at it, his expression quickly changing from angry to just plain devastated.

"Nice to meet you," Nico tells Sebastian again and Sebastian just ducks his head, nodding as he turns back to the dishwasher.

Mark runs up the stairs, retrieving the tickets and handing them to Jenson.

"Thanks, mate, you're a legend," Jenson tells him.

"No worries," Mark dismisses. "You guys have fun."

Jenson nods before looking towards the kitchen. "What was that about? Apart from making me wish the ground would open up and swallow me?"

Mark snorts a laugh. "Just giving him a little push."

Jenson looks worried "Sebi can't fly."

"Give the kid some credit," Mark tells him. "He'll be fine. Tough love."

"That's the kind of love you're good at," Jenson agrees, giving him a jokey punch on the shoulder. Mark returns it with an even harder one that knocks Jenson off balance.

"Get out of my house," he says with a mock snarl. "Don't be such a fucking stranger though."

"We'll meet up next week," Jenson insists. Mark smiles but he's learnt not to put too much faith in Jenson's promises lately.

When Mark returns to the kitchen he finds it empty, the dishwasher closed, but he knows Sebastian can't have escaped upstairs without getting past them. He grabs the things he stashed in the cupboard earlier and finds Sebastian in the living room, slouched on the sofa looking miserable.

"You read my mind," he says.

Sebastian looks up, not bothering to hide his expression. "I thought you were going out."

Mark shakes his head. "Gave my ticket to Nico."

Sebastian frowns. "But you and Jenson have been looking forward to that concert all summer."

Mark shrugs. "Thought of a better idea." He pulls the microwave popcorn from behind his back and tosses it towards Sebastian. "Movie night."

"I'm shit company," Sebastian dismisses. "Why don't you go see Fernando?"

"Because I want to watch movies with you," Mark insists, moving to sit on the table in front of Sebastian. "I brought all the old favourites." He pulls the first DVD from behind his back. "Top Gun."

Sebastian rolls his eyes. "That's _your_ favourite."

Mark smiles. "Let's start with The Little Mermaid then," he says, revealing his other choice. Sebastian's face softens instantly and he curls his legs up under himself, grabbing hold of a cushion and hugging it to his chest. "You gonna get it ready while I make the popcorn?" Mark prompts, holding it out to him.

Sebastian reluctantly takes it, looking admonished. "Why are you being nice to me? I was a dick to your friend."

"Felt pretty cathartic, right?" Mark says, nudging him.

Sebastian looks up, his eyes damp like they were in the treehouse. "I don't want to be that person."

"You're not a bad person, Seb," Mark tells him. "You're just human like the rest of us. We're all a mess. Don't beat yourself up over it."

"I want to be better than that," Sebastian says, biting down on his lip.

"Yeah, well, if you were perfect at everything first time it wouldn't be fair on the rest of us," Mark responds, getting to his feet. "Get the DVD ready, I'm making popcorn. We'll sing along to all the songs, you'll feel much better."

Sebastian's lips pull into a smile, even though he tries to stop them. "Please don't sing."

"Under the sea," Mark begins, shaking his hips to the rhythm as he heads for the door. "Under the sea."

"Stop," Sebastian groans.

"It's your namesake," Mark shouts from the kitchen as he turns on the microwave, standing in the doorway to listen to it pop. "Remember when you used to have all that Sebastian the crab stuff in your room? You were obsessed with him. It was adorable but I was kind of let down by what a wet blanket you were."

Sebastian gives him an incredulous look. "You had a My Little Pony."

"It was a horse," Mark dismisses. "It was for my farm. I picked it up at a jumble sale, I didn't know what it was."

"It was purple," Sebastian points out.

"It was a fucking horse," Mark insists, going back through to check on the popcorn. He pours it into a large bowl, settling on the sofa beside Sebastian who is hugging the cushion again, the remote in his hand.

"You know, in the original version of this the prince actually marries someone else and the mermaid is told that she has to kill him and let his blood..."

"Can you just lose the teen angst for five minutes, we're watching a Disney film," Mark tells him. "We're all going to live happily ever after."

Sebastian snorts a laugh. "You think?"

Mark shrugs. "Someone has to. Why not us?"

Sebastian presses play, shuffling down on the sofa before grabbing a handful of popcorn. "Thanks. I don't deserve you being so nice to me."

"Hey," Mark complains. "Stop being so mean to my little brother. I like him."

Sebastian smiles widely, eyes fixed on the screen. "Thanks," he whispers again before he's drown out by the first musical number.


	12. Chapter 12

If Mark knew going through this business proposal with Christian would take so long he would have taken a week off work. As it happens all he has is an afternoon and he quickly realises it's not going to be nearly enough time. He's actually glad Christian won't be around tomorrow for Mark's day off though because he doesn't think he could take another 24 hours of this.

He knows that Christian means well and he's eternally grateful to have someone who knows business and money as well as Christian does to talk him through this, but every time Mark makes a tiny suggestion about his vision he's met with a demanding set of questions and the sense that Christian really doesn't believe in him at all. He tries not to take it personally, he knows Christian's playing devil's advocate and pointing out all the possible flaws so they can be fixed before they become an issue, but it does feel a bit like getting beaten up.

Kiska jumps up onto Mark's lap, purring and nudging her head against him for attention. He pets her half-heartedly while he listens to Christian's latest critique of all his hopes and dreams but his focus is on the laptop in front of him, going through the plans with Christian and researching how to minimise the risks. Unsatisfied with this, Kiska climbs up onto Mark's shoulders, wrapping herself around him like a scarf. Mark can't help but smile at her.

It feels good to be talking about this as a real possibility rather than just a childhood fantasy and Mark knows he still has a lot of people to convince and a lot of work to do if he wants to make this a reality, and a successful one at that, but there's a certain comfort in the fact that it's tangible; something to fail at rather than something to daydream about.

And as infuriating as Christian is when he gets into business mode, Mark's glad that he actually gets a chance to see that brilliance close up. Christian didn't become a successful CEO and start up his own respected and profitable business without being good at what he does but Mark's never really seen the evidence of it before. It makes him proud that his dad is such a force to be reckoned with.

His phone beeps and he's grateful for the distraction, taking it out of his pocket.

_To: Mark_  
From: Fernando  
18:53  
Do you want to take me out tonight? xx 

Mark smiles, leaning back in his chair and trying not to upset the cat.

"Jenson?" Christian guesses.

"Fernando," Mark replies.

"Ah, of course," Christian smiles. He stretches his arms out in front of himself, giving a yawn. "I think that's my cue to exit."

Mark looks up at him. "Are we done? I thought we had to..."

"We've made a good start," Christian tells him. "We'll finalise the details later with a fresh set of eyes."

Mark nods. "Thank you. For everything."

Christian pushes his chair back and then stops himself, considering Mark for a few moments. "You're really young to be taking something like this on," he says. "And I'm not saying that to be condescending and I'm not saying it because I don't think you can do it, because you're stubborn and I think that you will." Mark can't help but smile at that, ducking his head. "But it's going to be really hard and you're going to need help. And I don't just mean with money and the business. You can't physically make this happen on your own. That's why I think you should call DC."

Mark looks up at him, utterly bemused. "DC?"

"Your cousin is perfect for this," Christian says. "He's done plenty of labouring jobs and you know he can't stay in one place for too long. He's been back in Scotland for over a year now, he must be getting itchy feet."

Mark purses his lips together, considering it. If there's anyone who's not going to be put off by the state of that farmhouse, it's DC. He smiles to himself. "Yeah, I'll think about that."

"Good," Christian agrees, getting to his feet. "Now go and have some fun tonight. Forget about all this for a little while."

"Aye aye captain," Mark agrees, giving him a little salute. Christian rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he leaves the room, Mark turning his attention back to his phone.

_To: Fernando_  
From: Mark  
19:01  
Now there's an offer I can't refuse. Where do you want to go? 

_To: Mark_  
From: Fernando  
19:03  
Plush Lounge? I want to dance! 

Mark smiles to himself. Dancing's never been his favourite thing but watching Fernando dance is a thing of beauty and he's definitely not turning it down. He tips Kiska from his shoulder so he can stand up, finding something to wear. She slinks to the reading nook that she's now claimed as her bed, watching grumpily as he gets changed.

"Don't wait up," Mark tells her, giving her a wink as he heads for the door.

Fernando greets him with a hug and a kiss, holding onto his hand as they enter the club. The place has been a happy hunting ground for Mark over the years, picking up plenty of guys on his nights out with Jenson, but he's never been on a date here before. He suddenly finds that the predatory atmosphere that drew him in on previous visits makes him feel possessive of Fernando now. He grips his hand tighter as they head for the bar.

It's not the kind of place that encourages small talk, the music loud and the bass thumping. Mark likes the fact that he and Fernando need to get so close together to communicate though, giving them an excuse to be constantly in each other's personal space. Besides, after spending the afternoon talking through his proposal with Christian until his voice felt hoarse, Mark's happy to just be able to enjoy Fernando's company without having to hold up a conversation.

He can tell Fernando's not particularly interested in chatting either, his eyes constantly drawn to the dance floor. Whenever they had house parties in uni Mark always loved watching Fernando dance because he never gave a fuck what anyone thought, he just enjoyed the music, losing himself to it. He looked fucking hot while he did it too and Mark had more than a few fantasies fuelled by the way his hips moved to the rhythm of a song.

It was never for anyone else's benefit, never the mating call that Mark was sure he wasn't the only person who read it as. He did it because he liked it, because it made him smile, and something about that fact just drew Mark in further. He remembers one party at their shared house last year, the night winding to a close somewhere in the early hours, most people having made their exits or gone through to their bedrooms. Jenson had fallen asleep on the sofa, half on top of Mark, and Fernando was still dancing, all by himself, as though he hadn't even realised that everyone had left, as though he hadn't even realised the rest of the world existed at all.

Looking back, Mark's thinks that might have been the moment his feelings for Fernando went from hopeless crush to something much deeper, something real. He's also glad it was Jenson's legs across his lap and not his head because _that_ would have been embarrassing.

"Same again?" Mark asks as they finish their second drink of the evening, already turning towards the bar as he anticipates Fernando's answer. Fernando grabs hold of his wrist to stop him, shaking his head.

"I want to dance."

Mark smiles. "Go ahead," he invites. "I'll watch."

Fernando's grip tightens on his wrist. "You will dance with me."

"I'll need a few more of these first, mate," Mark dismisses, holding up his empty bottle.

Fernando moves in closer, pouting at him suggestively. "You think if you let me dance alone here I will not get attention?" Mark looks over at the dance floor, remembering the only reason he was ever on it before. Fernando shrugs, dropping his wrist. "Eh, maybe I will get a better offer."

Mark reaches out, grabbing hold of his hand and pulling him back close. "Don't think so, mate," he says, his voice so low it's practically a growl. Fernando smirks at him. Mark leans in to kiss it away, making a point to anyone who's close by in the process.

"So we dance?" Fernando asks sweetly, eyes shining as they pull away.

"You're a fucking manipulative bastard," Mark says, but he doesn't protest as Fernando pulls him toward the dance floor.

If Mark thought the way Fernando danced before was like a mating call then this is basically fucking with their clothes on. The club is reasonably full but that's not the reason their bodies as so close together as they move to the music. Mark doesn't get a chance to be self-conscious about his own dancing, not with Fernando's hands on his shoulders, his chest, his hips, guiding him, their eyes never looking away from each other.

It's incredibly intimate for such a crowded location and when Fernando starts dancing closer, pressing his body against Mark's, it's a struggle for Mark to remind himself that he's in public. Dry humping on the dance floor wouldn't be a first here, Mark knows that from experience, but what he has with Fernando is worth more than that.

When Fernando kisses him as their bodies move together it's not gratuitous, it's gentle and deep and it chips away at Mark's willpower until he has to pull away and try desperately to think of anything else. Fernando watches him, chewing on his lip, and then he pushes himself up on his tiptoes to speak into Mark's ear.

"I want to go home."

Mark nods, feeling slightly disappointed. He doesn't want this to end yet. Fernando takes hold of his hand, leading him through the crowded dance floor and towards the exit. When they get outside, he doesn't let go.

"You are coming to the flat?" Fernando asks, but it's not really phrased as a question.

"Oh, uh, bit far," Mark replies. "Just come to mine. Christian's a lot less insane about it now, he almost believes I'm an adult."

Fernando shakes his head. "No privacy."

Mark shrugs. "I'll grab the key to the guesthouse, we'll use that. You won't even have to see them"

"No," Fernando says, looking frustrated. "Because then in the morning you will have to wash the sheets and you will have to explain why. Is no good."

Mark blinks at him, a moment of clarity coming over him. "I'll have to wash the sheets?"

Fernando gives him meaningful look. "You will definitely have to wash the sheets."

Mark quickens his pace towards the taxi stand, pulling Fernando along with him. "Let's go to yours."

Mark's not big on public displays of affection, unless he's incredibly drunk and is trying to get his hand down some guy's pants. There's so many things he wants to do to Fernando in the back of that taxi but he restrains himself because this isn't drunken and it isn't cheap and he wants to preserve that, despite the fact that an hour wait before he can really get his hands on Fernando seems like an incredibly cruel punishment for respecting his boyfriend.

They sit close together, the press of their bodies feeling inescapably sexual given the context. Mark slides his hand over Fernando's thigh, giving a squeeze, and Fernando makes a little noise of appreciation, resting his head on Mark's shoulder. Mark's determined that it's all he's going to allow himself. Fernando twines their fingers together, stroking over the back of Mark's hand his free hand. Mark breathes in deeply, trying to keep himself in check, but all he ends up doing is inhaling Fernando's scent and making himself more impatient than ever.

Fernando angles his face upwards and Mark places a chaste kiss on his lips, just one, determined not to get drawn in. Fernando smiles at him, a soft, easy smile, his eyes shining with longing. He hums a low noise, resting his head back down.

"How is the farm?" he asks.

"Not mine yet," Mark replies. "I don't know, I'm working on it. Long way to go."

"You will get it," Fernando tells him confidently. "You are meant to get it. Will be perfect for you. And I think I would like to visit you there."

"Oh, so you don't want me to be successful, you just want a pretty farmhouse to come stay at," Mark teases.

Fernando looks up at him, smiling. "I want all these things."

Mark nods. "Me too."

Fernando snuggles back against him, his fingers playing along the inside of Mark's wrist, their hands still joined together. The flesh is sensitive, ticklish under Fernando's touch, and Mark shifts in his seat.

"I should stop?" Fernando asks quietly.

Mark leans down, placing a kiss on his temple. "Don't ever stop," he whispers.

Fernando leans more heavily against him. Mark looks up at the little digital clock that glows on the dashboard, checking how far they have to go.

Fernando insists on paying for the taxi and Mark doesn't bother arguing with him, letting him hand over the money before they're pulling each other out into the street. Fernando laughs as he fumbles with his key to get into the building, dragging Mark inside with him as he finally gets it open. They kiss, desperate and open mouthed, their hands all over each other as they try to navigate themselves up the stairs and Mark's very tempted to just push Fernando down and fuck him right here.

He likes that this is funny though, likes the fact that they can't keep the grins off their faces as they continue to kiss, Fernando's hands pushing Mark's jacket back off his shoulders. There isn't that same urgency that Mark always feels to seal the deal when he gets this far with a guy, knowing that these moments are make or break in what happens next. He has Fernando already and that security makes Mark simply enjoy the absurdity of Fernando trying to unlock the door to his flat while he pins Mark up against it, both of them aware they'll stumble ungracefully through it when he finally succeeds.

In the end they manage to retain their dignity, laughing as they step through reasonably unscathed. It's a good thing really because the first thing Mark hears is Jenson greeting them. He turns to see Jenson stood in the living room, TV remote in his hand. Fernando takes a step away from Mark, moving to close the door.

"You're just in time," Jenson enthuses. "My sister gave me her Netflix password. Do you want to watch a movie with me?"

"Oh," Mark says, looking awkwardly at Fernando. "We were actually just going to..." He trails off, looking at Jenson. "Go to bed?"

Jenson blinks, realisation dawning, and Mark doesn't miss the disappointment in his eyes. "Right," he says, laughing at himself. "Of course you were. Sorry. No, ignore me, I'm not even here."

Mark looks at Fernando again, searching for an answer. He turns back to Jenson. "I mean... we could," he says, looking to Fernando for confirmation.

"No," Jenson dismisses, giving him a look. "Unintentional cock block. Go fuck. Don't worry about me."

Mark smiles at him. "We could watch a movie tomorrow," he suggests. "I have the day off, we could hang out. It's been a while."

"I've got stuff to do tomorrow," Jenson tells him. "Another time."

"Right," Mark agrees, but it's the kind of vague promise they've been making a lot lately and they never seem to see it through. Fernando takes hold of his hand, a kind little smile on his face, and they go through to his bedroom.

Throwing himself down on Fernando's bed, Mark gives a frustrated sigh. Fernando toes off his shoes and climbs on to join him, lying by his side. Mark turns his head to face him, giving a reluctant little smile.

"Well, that was... hideously awkward."

Fernando shrugs. "Is only like when he brings Nico here."

"Mate, it's not," Mark tells him. "Nico's not your best mate."

Fernando reaches out, rubbing Mark's arm. "I remember, at university, you barely used to speak to anyone else."

"We did," Mark insists. "Did people think we were dicks?"

"They thought you were dating," Fernando tells him. Mark gives him an incredulous look. "Sometimes I think this too."

"Jenson?" Mark asks in amazement. "Me and Jenson?"

"You were _very_ close," Fernando states. "You used to hug and fall asleep on each other and finish each other's sentences. Was like you were married already."

Mark smiles at the memories. It's true, they were inseparable and incredibly intimate really. It was never romantic to them but he can see how it might look from the outside. Best mates don't usually cuddle in bed to comfort each other from a hangover or share the same cup of takeout coffee.

"I miss him."

"He's only in the next room," Fernando points out. He props himself up on an elbow. "Let's go watch a film."

Mark shakes his head, not meeting his eyes. "It's weird now."

He doesn't just mean the situation tonight, everything with Jenson feels weird, some connection lost between them and he can't work out when it happened, when they started to drift apart.

Fernando sighs, resting his head down on Mark's shoulder as he slides an arm across his torso. Mark pushes thoughts of Jenson away and reaches down, tilting Fernando's head up to kiss him. It's slow and soft, easing back into each other. Mark moves, rolls onto his side so he can press their bodies together, wind an arm around Fernando to hold him close. He slides a hand into his hair, kisses him a little deeper, tries to lose himself to it like he did before. He wants Fernando, has wanted him for so long now, but the urgency has gone, his craving for something much deeper. Fernando pulls back.

"You are not in the mood now," he says.

Mark sighs, rolling onto his back. "I'm sorry."

"Is okay," Fernando assures him. "You wait a long time for me. I can wait for you."

Mark looks at him with a self-deprecating expression. "I've lost all respect for myself, just so you know."

Fernando smiles at him. "Don't worry, I know you are virile and manly."

Mark laughs. "I have been trying to get into your pants for three years and you offer yourself up but I'm too busy being emo about my BFF."

Fernando frowns. "What language are you speaking now?"

Mark pulls him close. "Let's go to bed."

"I like this plan," Fernando agrees, placing a kiss on his cheek.

They get undressed, stripping down to just their underwear before climbing under the covers. They meet in the middle of the bed, snuggling together, arms wrapped around one another. Fernando nuzzles at Mark's neck and Mark sighs contentedly, breathing him in.

"Three years?" Fernando asks.

"What?"

"You say you have been trying for three years," Fernando states. "I didn't know it was that long."

"Mate, have you seen you?" Mark asks, trying to keep his voice light because he's embarrassed by the admission. "Lust at first sight. You must have had half the campus chasing you."

"I never really pay attention," Fernando admits. "Maybe I wish I had done now." He kisses Mark's neck.

Mark thinks about it, getting Fernando in first year. Maybe if they'd met early enough in the year Fernando could have been his first. Mark would have missed out on a lot though, all the self-discovery that went hand in hand with his experiences with guys, and he thinks he probably would have gotten itchy feet by now. He was too eager to see everything and do everything to have been able to make that commitment.

"Nah," he says. "I think we got the timing just right."

Fernando brings him breakfast in the bed the next morning, toast and coffee.

"Shouldn't you be wearing a sexy maid's outfit?" Mark asks, propping himself up on the pillows.

"You will have to buy me one," Fernando tells him, climbing back into bed beside him.

"Mate, don't tempt me," Mark says, taking a bite of his toast.

They spend most of the morning in bed, all lazy kisses and exploring hands. Mark's aware that he should probably be angling to have sex, they're practically naked and they're already under the covers, but it still doesn't feel right. Jenson has left, they have the place to themselves, but something just feels off to Mark. It makes him question himself because isn't this what he's wanted all along?

They finally surface for a late lunch at the cafe around the corner before snuggling up on the sofa and watching a movie together with Jenson's Netflix. It's nice, being together, enjoying each other's company. Nice isn't exactly the same as earth shattering though and Mark starts to wonder if they're really that compatible after all.

When he gets home he plans to look over his proposal again, wanting to impress Christian by being proactive, only to find his laptop missing. He looks around his room, wondering if he put it down somewhere and didn't remember, but it's definitely gone. Frowning he heads across the hall to Sebastian's room. He ignores the do not disturb sign and knocks on the door.

"Don't come in," Sebastian shouts urgently. "Wait. Just a minute."

When he opens the door he's clearly out of breath, his hair a mess and his eyes slightly glassy. Mark's first instinct is that he's been wanking but taking in the state of him he starts to doubt himself.

"What?" Sebastian demands as Mark's eyes scan up and down him.

"Your shirt's buttoned up wrong," Mark's tells him.

Sebastian looks down at himself, seeing his school shirt fastened up wonky. "Shit," he says, trying to correct it.

Mark attempts to peer around him. "Who do you have in there?"

"Don't," Sebastian says, pushing him back.

Mark laughs. "Are you getting some action in there?"

"We're doing homework," Sebastian insists.

"Course you are," Mark agrees. "Anatomy?"

"Did you want something?" Sebastian asks, giving him an irritated look.

"Yeah," Mark responds. "I'm looking for my laptop."

"Oh," Sebastian says, giving up on fussing with his shirt. "Heikki's borrowing it."

"Who's Heikki?" Mark asks.

"We're doing dual research," Sebastian says. "For a project. We're nearly done."

"Little tip," Mark tells him. "Keep your shirt on, you'll work much more efficiently."

Sebastian blushes deep red, stepping back. "Yeah," he mumbles, avoiding Mark's gaze as he closes the door.

Mark laughs to himself as he heads down the stairs, fetching himself a drink. Little Sebastian making out with boys in his room. His first instinct is to tell Jenson but given his history with Sebastian that's likely to put the final coffin in Mark and Jenson's friendship. He sighs, leaning against the fridge with his can of coke. He feels restless, wants to take the dogs for a walk, but he doesn't want to miss catching a glimpse of Sebastian's mystery man.

It's maybe only half an hour later when he hears them on the stairs. He leans back from his place at the island, trying to peer through the doorway. He could just go and introduce himself, maybe play the tough big brother, but putting himself in Sebastian's shoes he knows it's not a fair thing to do. The poor kid looked mortified enough already.

He catches blond hair, someone taller than Sebastian. They talk quietly and there's no parting kiss. As soon as the door shuts Mark can hear Sebastian's footsteps on the stairs.

"Sebastian," he calls. There's no response, the footsteps continuing, clearly trying to escape. "Seb, come here or I'll tell Christian what you were doing."

Sebastian stops on the stairs and then Mark can hear him coming back down again, footsteps slow and dragging. He smiles to himself. Sebastian hovers by the doorway, looking awkward.

"What?"

"Who's Heikki?" Mark asks.

Sebastian shrugs, staring at the floor. "Someone from school."

"He's in your year?" Mark asks.

"Yeah," Sebastian replies.

"Good," Mark says. "Age appropriate for once."

Sebastian gives him a pained look. "Can I go now?"

"No," Mark responds, taking a sip of his drink. "Tell me about him."

"Why?" Sebastian asks.

Mark shrugs. "You can tell me or you can tell Christian. Choice is yours."

Sebastian pouts at him. "Stop saying that. And why do you even care?"

"Because I'm your big brother," Mark says. "I need to make sure I'm not going to have to kick his arse."

Sebastian smiles at the floor as he comes further into the room. "Heikki's nice, you wouldn't have to do that."

"Nice boys don't leave you looking that dishevelled," Mark states.

Sebastian grins. "Yes they do." The words sound dirty and Mark feels taken aback. He tries to shake it off.

"So how long has this been going on?"

Sebastian shrugs, leaning on the island, still avoiding Mark's gaze. "He started in September. I wanted to practice my Finnish on him."

"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" Mark responds.

Sebastian gives him a look. "He's from Finland."

"Yeah, I got that," Mark agrees. He considers Sebastian for a moment, the confidence he can see beneath the squirmy immediacy of Sebastian's embarrassment.

"He does cross country," Sebastian says and Mark's surprised he's suddenly offering up information. He's usually so cagey. "He said he can train me to run 5k."

"Yeah?" Mark asks. "Does he know you never leave your bedroom?"

"Shut up," Sebastian tells him. "He knows I don't do sports. He says he can train me anyway. He says he can train anyone."

"Bagged yourself a dumb, pretty athlete then?" Mark asks.

"He's really smart actually," Sebastian says. "He wants to study physiotherapy." He looks up, finally daring to earnestly meet Mark's eyes. "He makes things happen. He asked me if I was gay during maths class."

Mark raises his eyebrows. "What, in front of everyone?"

"He asked me in Finnish, no one else could understand," Sebastian dismisses. "Then he kissed me when we were walking home from school once. He only lives five minutes down the road."

Mark nods, trying to take it all in. Someone who's assertive and knows what they want is probably exactly what Sebastian needs to break him out of his own shell, but Mark can't help being a little wary.

"Just, go slow," he tells Sebastian. "This is all new to you. Don't get swept up in it and do anything you're going to regret."

Sebastian rolls his eyes. "Is this the big brother talk?"

"Seb," Mark says sternly, making him focus. "I'm sure he's all charm and hotness and you're incredibly flattered, but you don't owe him anything. Go at your pace."

Sebastian looks at him, his expression sincere. "I am. He's not some big bad predator, Mark. He's just a kid in my maths class."

Mark nods. "You're really naive. I worry about you."

"I'm not an idiot," Sebastian tells him. "Give me some credit."

"You're sixteen," Mark says. "All sixteen year olds are idiots. It's the hormones."

"I think I can control myself," Sebastian says, straightening himself up.

"Hey," Mark says, reaching out to touch his arm to stop him from leaving. "Good for you. This is a positive development in your life."

Sebastian gives him a bemused look. "Thanks. I think." He shuffles on his feet. "You're not going to tell Christian and Adrian, are you?"

"No," Mark says. "But they probably already know. They knew about me and Fernando before it even happened, so..."

"You and Fernando were really obvious," Sebastian says. Mark snorts a laugh. "How is he?"

"Good," Mark shrugs. "Fine."

Sebastian nods. "I'm going to go. Thanks for not being as big a dick about this as you could have been. And I promise, you don't need to worry about me."

"Okay," Mark agrees, but he knows that won't stop him.

As Sebastian leaves the room Mark sags against the island with a sigh. Everyone in this house is going to get laid before he does.


	13. Chapter 13

Mark climbs out of the car, breathing in deeply and filling his lungs with country air. He's sure there's no better feeling in the world than this. He looks over the fields and he knows he can't quite call them his, this whole thing still belongs to Pete and even Mark's business model kind of belongs to the bank, but he has the keys and he has the cash and he's determined he's going to a make it work. Maybe a few years down the line he can buy them all out and really have something to call his own.

"The first thing you need to do is trade this thing in for a 4x4," DC tells him, climbing out of the car and looking at it with distain. "This isn't going to do you much use out here."

"Yeah, I know," Mark agrees distractedly, not wanting to get pulled out of his reverie. "I'm going to talk to Jenson's dad."

"And this needs sorting if you want any kind of proper access," DC goes on, walking to the overgrown dirt road they can't get past.

"Obviously," Mark replies. He shakes off the retort he wants to give and turns back to the view. "Come on, I'll show you the house."

"Just a sec," DC says, heading back to the car.

"What are you doing?" Mark asks, watching as he opens the boot.

"Grabbing my things," DC tells him, pulling out his rucksack, the sleeping bag still attached to it. Mark frowns at him.

"What do you need that for?"

"Don't want to hike back for them later," DC explains, slinging the bag on his back and walking back to join Mark who just stares at him.

"You can't stay here," he says. "It's a wreck. You're staying at the house, you idiot."

"I'm sure I've slept in worse," DC dismisses with a wave of his hand.

"You can't stay here," Mark says again. "Besides, you don't even have a car. What am I supposed to do, just leave you out here? What if something happens?"

"What's going to happen?" DC asks.

"An emergency," Mark says. "You can't stay here."

"You're so precious," DC says affectionately. "You can tell you come from the money part of the family."

Mark frowns at his retreating back, moving to catch up with him. "Hey, I'm not spoilt. I'm doing this on my own."

DC smiles at him. "I didn't say spoilt. But Adrian married up. Way up."

"And your mum married down?" Mark counters.

"My mum married Scottish," DC says with a wink, taking in the house as it comes into view.

Mark knows he doesn't really mean it. DC likes to play up his Scottish roots, even though his mum's from Stratford-upon-Avon and his dad's actually a very respectable partner in a haulage firm and his childhood was nowhere near as rough as he likes to pretend it was. His reputation comes from his accent and the way he presents himself, travelling the world and getting into scrapes and pretending he was born to it all. Mark's kind of jealous; he would have liked to have a few years like that under his belt.

Mark gives him a tour of the house and he bites his tongue while DC lists all the ridiculously obvious things that need doing like Mark doesn't have a clue what he's taken on here. It's a big project, Mark's well aware of that, and he knows he needs DC's help to get through it, but he's not completely incompetent. DC sees Mark as some wet behind the ears kid with no life experience though and Mark wonders if he's this patronising when he talks to Sebastian.

In the end they spend most of the day clearing the road up to the house so they can get supplies in easily for the rebuild. It's hard work but it's satisfying and Mark feels like he's really achieved something, looking over the pathway like he's just built a masterpiece.

They go through the house, filling binliners with rubbish, hardly finding anything worth salvaging. Mark doesn't feel disheartened by it though. It feels good to get the clutter out of the way and see what they're really dealing with. They work until it starts to get dark, the lack of electricity meaning they have nothing to see by once the sun goes down. He convinces DC to leave with him, using the light on this phone to guide them back to the car.

DC sets up in the guesthouse, staying out of the way and insisting that he's perfectly self-sufficient. Even he can't resist on the days Christian insists he comes to eat dinner in the house with the rest of them though. Most of the time they spend their evenings at the farm though, clearing the house, fixing it up, making it liveable, working by the spotlights and generator one of Christian and Adrian's contractors leant them.

Mark gets his 4x4 from John with a little help from his parents but he keeps the car for DC to use while they get set up, meaning DC can spend his time working in daylight while Mark is at work, keeping his job at the fish farm until he can finally get started on what he considers to be his real future. For now he needs the money so he can't turn his back on the income mating trout offers him.

Within two weeks DC has moved into the farm fulltime, insisting it's perfectly liveable, despite the fact that the electrics still need sorting and they barely get running water. Mark heads over there every night after work to help and see the progress, wishing he could throw himself so wholeheartedly into this like DC does. This is his responsibility though, he has too much riding on it to treat it like a fun adventure like DC does. The long drive is hard after a day at work so Mark often resorts to sleeping at the farm, he and DC with sleeping bags on the living room floor because they haven't even begun to deal with the bedrooms yet. He makes the two hour drive again in the morning, getting up with the sunrise to get back in time for work. Those early mornings are something he'll have to get used to and he can't wait to be greeted by something so much more pleasant than a commute to a job he hates.

He feels like everything is finally falling into place, and despite the exhaustion and the fact that he barely has time to catch up with even his own family, he's happy, happier than he remembers being in a long time. He often uses the evening drive to chat with Fernando on speakerphone, telling him all about the progress of the house, and sometimes Jenson's there and the three of them chat together and he can almost believe it's like old times, but nothing could be further from the truth. Jenson promises he's going to come and help Mark out one weekend but Mark's not holding his breath.

He steps into the house after work and he can smell Christian's cooking, making him consider staying for dinner before he heads out to the farm. He breathes in deeply and sighs, following his nose through to the kitchen.

"Mark," Christian greets, turning from his cooking and offering him a smile. "I wanted to ask you something."

"Okay," Mark agrees somewhat reluctantly, sitting down at the island.

"We have that conference in London this weekend so we wanted to make sure you'd be here on Saturday night," Christian explains.

Mark snorts a laugh. "Why? I think Seb's old enough to be on his own, he doesn't need me to babysit."

"Hey, kid," Adrian greets, coming through from his study. He squeezes Mark's shoulder on his way past, reaching over and stealing something off Christian's chopping board. Christian looks slightly perturbed but turns his attention back to Mark.

"I'm sure Seb would have no problems being on his own," Christian agrees. "But we'd rather be sure Heikki isn't here with him."

"Is that what you're worried about?" Mark asks incredulously. "They're not having sex."

"Well, we'd like to keep it that way for a while," Christian states primly. "Look, I know you'd rather be at the farm, but it's just one night."

"Two nights," Adrian cuts in.

Christian turns to look at him. "The conference is only on Saturday, we'll be back Sunday."

Adrian shakes his head, shoving another piece of food in his mouth. "I made reservations for Sunday evening, table for two at Bluebird. I told the hotel we're staying another night"

Christian goes very still, staring at him. "Bluebird?"

"What's that, some fancy restaurant?" Mark asks.

"It's where we had our first date," Christian says, eyes still fixed on Adrian as his mouth curves up into a smile. Adrian looks rightfully smug. Christian reaches up, pulling him in for a kiss.

"Gold star, Adrian," Mark praises. "You're definitely getting lucky."

Christian turns to give him an unimpressed look. "Thank you for ruining a lovely moment."

"True though," Mark says, winking at Adrian.

"I'm going back to my study," Adrian says. "Two nights," he tells Mark as he retreats.

"You can count on me," Mark assures him.

Christian takes a breath and sighs, stirring something in a pan before turning back to Mark. "You're okay with this?"

Mark shrugs. "I'll keep an eye on Seb, don't worry. Be nice to catch up, I barely see him."

Christian smiles, leaning over the island to get closer to Mark. "I'm glad you two are getting on better. I know he was always an annoying kid to you."

"He's still an annoying kid to me," Mark tells him.

Christian ignores him. "Five years is a long time when you're little. We didn't really intend to have such a big age difference between you, I would have preferred a couple of years, but after we had you it changed everything and we realised how unsuited our lives were to children. You made us look at the world in a completely different way, it was a big adjustment. By the time everything had settled down, five years had passed."

Mark nods. "I was your practice run."

"You weren't a practice run," Christian says, giving him an irritated look. "And it's not cute when you say things like that, just for the record."

"I know," Mark agrees. He offers Christian a smile that he can't help but return.

"We thought about adopting a kid that was a bit older, so the age difference wouldn't be so great," Christian goes on. "But when we read Seb's file in amongst the others, I don't know, we couldn't just leave him. He needed a family. We needed him."

"You just love fixer uppers, don't you," Mark comments.

Christian looks seriously unimpressed now, straightening himself up. "Remind me not to try and have a heart to heart with again."

Mark rolls his eyes. "Come on, you know I'm joking. This is how I express love."

"Poor Fernando," Christian mutters, turning back to his cooking.

"We do get on better," Mark says. "Me and Seb. I mean, he was 13 when I went to uni. I was moving out and he was a kid, even by Sebastian standards of being old before his time. We didn't have anything in common. I guess we do now. Kind of."

"You're both growing up," Christian states, a sadness in his voice.

"Well, I'm sure there's another baby somewhere that needs you," Mark says.

Christian gives him a look. "Believe me, I am definitely past that, imminent empty nest syndrome or not."

Mark laughs. "Maybe you can get a donkey or something."

"I'll leave that to you and the farm," Christian tells him. "Are you staying for dinner?"

"Maybe," Mark responds. "Is there enough? It does smell good."

"There's always enough," Christian insists. "Stay."

"Okay," Mark agrees, walking around to grab a drink from the fridge, sitting back at the island with it. He takes a sip, watching Christian move around the room. "You should tell Seb that story about the adoption."

"What about it?" Christian asks. "He knows about where he came from, we never hid anything from him."

"Yeah, he knows that," Mark agrees, thinking back to the conversation they had in the tree house. "Tell him the other part. How you read his file and had to have him."

Christian turns to face him. "You don't think he knows how much we love him?"

"Of course he does," Mark dismisses, believing it, because Sebastian might think he wasn't their first choice, but even Mark is certain he knows how loved he is now he's here. "But he's a dork, he likes origin stories, don't miss the most important part out."

Christian gives him a slightly quizzical look, turning back to the cooker. "Okay," he agrees. "Well, in the meantime, why don't you go tell him dinner's ready."

"Sure thing," Mark agrees, hopping off his seat. "And I'll tell him how laid he's not going to get while you're in London."

"Don't put ideas in his head," Christian calls after him.

"He's sixteen with his first boyfriend," Mark retorts. "You think the idea hasn't occurred to him?"

Christian sighs. "I know I wanted him to be more social, but I think I preferred it when he was buried in his books."

Mark smiles. "Seb's smart. I really don't think you have to worry about him."

"I remember being sixteen too," Christian responds. "The hormones outweigh the braincells."

Mark smiles. "Trust me, it won't be happening under my watch." He leaves the room, practically skipping up the stairs to tell Sebastian exactly that.


	14. Chapter 14

The weather is starting to get colder and Mark knows they need to get the work on the farm finished sooner rather than later. He thinks of the long summer days he spent laid out on the lawn or wasting time with Jenson when it could have been so much better spent. Maybe Christian was right though, you have to get things wrong before you can get them right. He doesn't think he would appreciate this so much if it had just fallen into his lap.

Still, he's counting down the days until he can quit his job at the fish farm and make this his full time priority. He knows they're getting close. The farmhouse is cleared out and mostly liveable, with electrics that aren't likely to kill them and water that runs when it's supposed to, but is rarely warm. The kitchen is a microwave and a camp stove, but they have a date to get it fitted now so things are definitely moving forward. The bathroom needs replacing too, but for now they've scrubbed it down and are grateful it doesn't leak too much. It's on Mark's to do list.

He knows he's lucky that his parents work in this industry, that they have builders and plumbers and electricians on their books who are willing to give Mark a very good price in exchange for all the well paid work Christian and Adrian have sent their way over the years. It's helped keep costs down a lot and Mark's not sure he would have gotten this far without it.

He's sat at his desk at work, going over the orders on the computer, when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He knows it's unprofessional but he slides it out, glad for the distraction.

_To: Mark_  
From: Jenson  
15:23  
I've got a free weekend. Know of any farms that need doing up? ;) 

Mark grins, feeling suddenly giddy. It's like the kind of messages Jenson used to send him, when they knew they were going to spend every spare second together anyway. It's not a given anymore, their lives so much more complicated than even a few months ago, but the text gives him hope. He used to think he could do anything so long as Jenson was by his side, the pair of them unstoppable.

He picks Jenson up from his flat on Saturday morning, indulging in a little time with Fernando while Jenson gets his things together.

"When do I get to see the farm?" Fernando asks, leaning against Mark as they sit close together on the sofa.

"When it's done," Mark tells him.

"Is not fair," Fernando complains.

"I want to make it nice for you," Mark insists. "I don't even have a bedroom yet."

Fernando looks amused. "Nice for me?" he repeats. "You think I will not sleep on the floor?"

Mark wraps his arms around Fernando, squeezing him slightly. "You and this farm, they're the two things in my life I'm determined to get right. Bear with me, okay?"

Fernando smiles, reaching up to place a kiss on his cheek. "Okay. But I will be asking Jenson for all the details when he gets back tomorrow night."

"Fair enough," Mark agrees, letting go of Fernando but keeping one arm loosely around him.

"We ready to go?" Jenson asks, bag slung over his shoulder.

"Sure," Mark agrees, shifting to face Fernando. "What exciting plans do you have for this weekend?"

"Studying without all the noise Jenson makes and being able to get into my own bathroom," Fernando shrugs.

Jenson gives him an incredulous look. "I am a model housemate."

"Mate, I've lived with you," Mark tells him. "I'm siding with Fernando."

"What a surprise, siding with the guy who sucks your dick," Jenson says. "Shall we?"

"Let's do this," Mark agrees. "Enjoy the peace and quiet," he tells Fernando, sharing a brief kiss before he's getting to his feet.

The drive feels awkward at first because Mark's not sure what small talk with Jenson is anymore. He never used to have to think before he spoke around Jenson, there was no filter between them, but it's been so long since they've been alone together and things just feel different now. Sometimes he wishes he could pinpoint the moment when everything started to change so he could try and get back there, recapture their ridiculous friendship all over again. He wants to blame Sebastian, that stupid, naive kiss, but he knows they were already sliding apart long before that.

"How's uni?" he asks, and he hates himself for having to resort to such generic conversational ice breakers with someone he used to tell all his hopes and dreams and deepest darkest secrets to.

"Good," Jenson nods. "There's a lot of independent study which means a lot of motivation and sometimes I'd just really rather make out with my boyfriend."

Mark laughs. "You love using that word, don't you?"

"Yeah," Jenson agrees, sounding slightly embarrassed. "Don't you though?"

Mark shrugs. "I don't think I use it much."

"You're missing out on this ridiculously warm feeling in your chest," Jenson tells him.

Mark nods. "Maybe I'll give it a go then," he ponders. "How is Nico? Settled in to life in Cirencester?"

"He looks great in tweed, he'll make an awesome farmer," Jenson says. "Nah, he's going into the business side of things anyway. Following in daddy's footsteps. He loves the English countryside though. Really loves it." Jenson pauses, seeming to consider his next words carefully. "I don't know if that means he'll stay once he's got his Master's under his belt though."

Mark looks at him, not sure how to respond to that. "Maybe you could move to Monaco," he offers.

"Yeah, Monaco," Jenson replies sarcastically. "Lot of farming opportunities there. Besides, I couldn't go away from home, not really. I'm a pathetic little home bird." He sighs, stretching his arms out in front of him. "I don't know if Nico would go back to Monaco anyway. He talks about Switzerland sometimes, and Germany. I think he'd like to travel the world, settle wherever the wind takes him."

"Go with him," Mark says.

Jenson shakes his head. "It's not me." He looks at Mark. "You think Fernando will stick around?"

"I... don't think about it," Mark admits.

Jenson sighs. "Why couldn't we fall in love with nice, British boys?"

Mark looks at him sideways. "You're in love?"

Jenson shrugs. "Aren't you?"

Mark grips the steering wheel a little tighter. "You've only known him a couple of months," he says, changing the subject.

"Yeah," Jenson agrees vaguely. "Well..."

They lapse into silence and everything feels awkward and out of place. Jenson is exactly the person Mark would usually have talked about these things with, fears about the future and relationships, but he doesn't feel like Jenson would understand now. It doesn't feel like they're on the same page at all.

"How's Seb?" Jenson asks.

Mark looks at him. "Seb? You're asking about Seb?"

"What?" Jenson says defensively. "I haven't seen him in ages, I'm just asking."

Mark shrugs, concentrating on the road. "He's fine. He still spends all of his time in his bedroom, but it's not the books he's studying anymore."

"He needs good grades if he wants to get into Oxford Brookes," Jenson says critically.

"I think he knows that," Mark replies.

"Yeah, well, don't let his grades slip because of some boy," Jenson says.

Mark gives him an incredulous look. "Are you jealous that he's not following you around like a lovesick puppy anymore?"

"I'm just looking out for his future," Jenson insists.

"Right," Mark says. "Of course you are."

They fall into silence again, even more strained than before. Mark can't remember things ever being this difficult between them. Maybe that kiss really was the final nail in the coffin of their friendship. Mark can appreciate that Jenson never actively pursued Sebastian, but he definitely wasn't oblivious to his pathetic little crush either. It's always flattering to be liked, no matter who by, and it's always a hit to the ego when people move on. Mark hopes that's all it is. Jenson is in love after all.

"So, what needs doing to this house?" Jenson asks, making a valiant effort to change the subject.

"What doesn't need doing?" Mark responds. "We've done most of the ripping out now but all the old wallpaper needs to come off, then we need to patch up the walls, sand everything down. We're nowhere near ready to paint yet. And we need to pull up the carpets in the rooms upstairs and see what's under there. I'm hoping not rotten floorboards."

Jenson smiles at him. "Sounds like a pretty big adventure."

Mark snorts a laugh. "That's one word for it."

With the dirt road cleared they can drive right up to the farmhouse now, the wonderful views appearing before they even get out of the car. Mark watches Jenson's reaction as they come over the crest of the hill, grinning at his amazement.

"It's something else, huh?"

"Can I live here with you?" Jenson asks.

"Bit of a commute to uni," Mark replies, cutting the engine and hopping out. The wind is force to be reckoned with as always, a reminder to Mark that he's going to need to get the windows replaced before winter gets here. It's not really in the budget right now though.

"About time you turned up," DC says, stepping out of the front door and looking a little too much like he owns the place.

"Jenson, you remember DC," Mark introduces.

"Brought another townie," DC comments.

"You grew up three miles from the A75," Mark points out. "And we both have a degree in agriculture."

"What, just one between you?" DC asks, smirking.

"And I'm from Somerset," Jenson says. "It's practically in my blood."

"Let's see what you've got then," DC challenges playfully.

"Do you remember who owns this place?" Mark asks, moving past him to get into the house.

"The bank?" DC responds.

Mark gives him a disparaging look but he's smiling inside. He wants DC to feel like this is his home, they make a great team and he hopes that DC will stick around after the renovations are finally complete. That's the reason he put DC's bedroom together before his own; he's living there fulltime and Mark wants to show his appreciation for all the help and hard work.

Mark still sleeps in the living room when he stays over, the sofa an improvement from the floor. The furniture was donated by a family who Christian and Adrian are working on a project for. They didn't need the stuff for their new house and were planning on getting rid of it anyway, but after Christian had told them about Mark's farm they'd wanted to help out. Mark kind of loves that Christian talks about him like that with clients, that he's making him proud.

Jenson and DC spend most of the day bantering and Mark starts to feel like the boss who's not really a part of all the fun and games. It's like being at work and he doesn't want his farm to feel like that. DC's laid back and he definitely doesn't mind being told what to do so long as it's reasonable, but Mark doesn't want that kind of hierarchy to bleed into every part of his life. If the farm is going to be his life he's not sure how realistic that goal is.

They stop for lunch and Jenson and DC disappear while Mark is fussing with some scraps of wallpaper on the kitchen wall that are really pissing him off. When they finally return, after Mark has finished his sandwich and is trying to work up the motivation to continue on his own, Jenson is buzzing.

"Where have you been?" Mark asks, trying not to sound like he's nagging.

"DC was showing me the views," Jenson beams. "It's fucking bracing out there."

"Oh," Mark says. "I was going to show you around properly later. I just got caught up with..." He gestures towards the wall.

"It's no worries," Jenson assures him. "DC's a good tour guide."

"Cool," Mark responds, trying to hide his disappointment. He wanted to proudly show off his kingdom, see Jenson's face when he took in the enormity of what Mark had gotten his hands on here. He knows it's pathetic, and maybe it's vanity, but he wanted them to share it.

"This place is amazing," Jenson says. "You are one lucky bastard."

"Yeah," Mark agrees, making an effort to sound like he means it because he really does. "I mean, I was going to give you a proper tour, tell you my plans for all the land."

"We'll do that tomorrow," Jenson tells him, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Yeah," Mark nods, though he doesn't feel like it will have quite the same effect now that Jenson's seen it all already.

That night, tired and dirty, the risk of a cold shower not enough incentive when they know they'll just be getting as mucky again tomorrow, they unfurl their sleeping bags.

"You can have the sofa," Mark tells Jenson.

"It's cold in here," Jenson complains. "Can we zip our sleeping bags together."

Mark looks at him. "I don't think we do that anymore, do we?"

"Why not?" Jenson asks.

Mark shrugs. "Haven't we moved on?"

"Have we?" Jenson responds. He looks thoughtful for a moment. "I'm cold."

Mark sighs, sitting down on the sofa, Jenson joining him. "What happened to us?"

"What do you mean?" Jenson asks.

"We used to do everything together," Mark points out. "Everything. We couldn't be out of contact for more than an hour at a time unless we were unconscious, and even then we were sometimes together. More than once Christian was unimpressed with my phone bill because I fell asleep on the phone to you and left the connection open all night."

Jenson laughs softly, looking touched by the memories. "We were kind of co-dependent, weren't we?"

"Yeah," Mark agrees. "So what happened? What went wrong?"

"Nothing went wrong," Jenson dismisses. "We just, sort of... grew up."

"Did we?" Mark asks doubtfully.

Jenson laughs. "Maybe. A bit." He shrugs. "Nothing went wrong, Mark. Our priorities shifted. I guess the most important things in our lives aren't the same things anymore. I'm doing my Master's and you've got your farm. I've got Nico and you've got Fernando. We don't fit so seamlessly anymore. Doesn't mean we're not best friends."

Mark looks at him tentatively. "You think?"

"Come on, we're basically family," Jenson tells him. "We always will be, no matter where we end up."

"So when you're in some far flung corner of the world with Nico..." Mark says.

"Stop it, not going to happen," Jenson dismisses. "Are you going to move to Spain with Fernando?"

"I can't, I have a farm," Mark responds, though that's nowhere near the only reason.

"He's going to move here with you though, right?" Jenson goes on. "I think he would. And that's totally your plan. That's why you want it so perfect before you'll let him see it. You're nesting."

"I'm not nesting," Mark says incredulously, looking at him like he's mad.

"That, and you don't want to fuck on the sofa," Jenson says. "Wait until you get a bed."

Mark gives a derisive little snort. "Not like we're fucking anyway so that's not a problem."

Jenson stops, studying Mark. "You and Fernando aren't fucking? What, never? Not at all?" Mark shrugs, looking away, but he knows his body language says it all. "How is that possible?"

"Easy, I didn't put my dick inside him," Mark responds, knowing that he's snapping.

"Poetically put," Jenson says. He frowns, looking thoughtful. "But I thought you guys were solid."

"We are," Mark agrees. "I think. I mean, I'm shit at this, but I think I know that much."

"He's still holding out?" Jenson asks.

Mark sighs. "I don't know. Not really. We kind of nearly did it one time but... It didn't feel right and we haven't ended up back in that moment again."

"What moment?" Jenson asks. "Every moment is that moment for me and Nico. It nearly happened in the library one time."

"Thanks, mate, I needed to feel shitter about myself," Mark responds.

Jenson considers him for a moment. "But you love him."

The fact that it's said like a statement rather than a question makes Mark pause. "Do I?" Jenson gives him an unimpressed look. "Well, I mean, I think I do," Mark says. "Love is a really big word."

"How can someone as loved as you be so confused about emotions?" Jenson asks.

"Because I'm a dick," Mark tells him, sagging against his side.

"You really are," Jenson agrees, putting an arm around him. "But I love you."

"Love you too," Mark mutters.

"You and Fernando will be fine," Jenson insists. "You're the real deal, the fairytale. You don't get to fuck until happily ever after."

"And how long will that take?" Mark asks.

"Finish the farm," Jenson tells him. "Get your shit together. Stop worrying about breaking everything so fucking much and just let it happen."

"That is excellent advice," Mark says.

"I'm an excellent best friend," Jenson responds. Mark closes his eyes, feeling suddenly exhausted. "Can we zip our sleeping bags together?"

"Yeah, okay," Mark agrees.

They make a bed of cushions and sleeping bags on the floor and it feels like the kind of sleepovers they used to have when they were kids. Jenson's right, Mark needs to learn how to let things be. These times between he and Jenson will probably be few and far between as they both get more invested in their separate projects but they'll never disappear completely. They're always going to be a part of each other's lives, carving out a tiny place for one another.

The next day they manage to get most of the jobs on Mark's to do list done before it's time for the long drive back again. He manages to give Jenson that tour of the land as well, telling him about his vision for the place, and he feels more accomplished than he has in a long time.

"You going to come up and see Fernando?" Jenson asks when they pull up outside his flat.

"I better get home," Mark dismisses. "Tell him I'll call him tomorrow."

"Will do," Jenson agrees. "Don't work too hard."

"I never do," Mark tells him. "Not when it comes to the fucking trout."

Jenson smiles. "They don't fuck though, do they?"

"Maybe that's why I'm so good with them," Mark responds.

Jenson rolls his eyes. "It'll happen. I'll speak to you later."

They share a hug, tight and meaningful, before Mark makes the last hour of his journey alone. The house is quiet when he gets back but the lights are still on so he guesses someone's up. He walks through to the kitchen, the usual hub of the house, to find it empty. He gets himself a glass of water and then wanders through to Adrian's study on instinct, knowing he's always the last one to go to bed.

When he gets to the doorway he stops, hiding halfway behind the frame as he watches for a moment. Adrian is sat at his drawing board, looking over his latest sketch, Christian stood behind him with his hands on Adrian's shoulders, gently massaging them. Adrian smiles and tips his head back, Christian leaning down for a brief kiss. Adrian turns his attention back to his work and Christian presses his weight against Adrian's back, looking over his shoulder. Mark feels that contented glow he always gets when he sees them be so completely in love, even 25 years on. He notices that it's not dissimilar to the glow he gets when Fernando smiles at him like he's the only person in the world.

He shifts back, trying to leave, but his shoe catches on the doorframe, the noise making Christian look up.

"Sorry," Mark says, embarrassed. "Didn't mean to interrupt. I just got home. Was going to say hi."

"Hi," Adrian returns, smiling at him indulgently before reaching for a technical pencil.

"Hi," Mark nods, lifting a hand in greeting.

"Good weekend?" Christian asks, taking a step away from Adrian, one hand still resting idly on his shoulder.

"Yeah, good, productive," Mark agrees. "And it was nice to catch up with Jenson." He stares at Christian's hand, feeling a strange kind of longing he can't quite place.

"You okay?" Christian asks.

"Yeah, no, nothing," Mark dismisses, shaking his head as if to get rid of the idea, but the words are already on the tip of his tongue. "Is it weird that all I really want in life is what you guys have?"

Christian smiles at him, something proud in his expression. "I don't think you're too far off."

"Maybe," Mark agrees. He takes a sip of his water. "I need a shower. I'll leave you guys to it. Night."

"Sleep well," Adrian calls.

He walks up the stairs, noting how everyone else seems to believe in him and so maybe it wouldn't be the stupidest thing in the world to just believe in himself.


	15. Chapter 15

Mark scoops Kiska up from her place in the reading nook, holding her level with his face. "You better be good at mousing," he tells her. "You're going to have to earn your keep out there, you know." Kiska stares at him, uncomprehending and slightly pissed off. Mark sighs, cradling her against his chest. "Well," he says. "Time for us to go."

He looks around the room, mostly packed up and moved to the farm already, only a few last things that he'll take with him today. He's done this before of course, when he was 18 and heading to uni, but that was different. There's a finality to this because he's not moving into halls, he's moving to his new home. It's hard to grasp that he won't at some point be coming back here again.

He shakes the thoughts away, turning his attention back to Kiska. "Come on," he says. "You can have a cushion. Just don't pee or throw up on it. It's a long trip."

He bends down, putting Kiska's favourite cushion into her carrycase and then placing her in after it. He's glad she's so placid, he doesn't know if he could handle fighting with her right now. He shuts her in and then packs up the rest of the cushions and blankets from the reading nook, checking around for the last of the things he wants to take with him. He's barely spent any time here since the farm got up and running so there's not much left. Once the sheep arrived yesterday he knew it was time to make it permanent.

He leaves Kiska in the kitchen while he loads the rest of the stuff into his car, Sebastian swinging on one of the stools at the island. Christian is pottering around and, by the time Mark is ready to leave, Adrian is in the kitchen too. It makes Mark's stomach twist to have to do the big dramatic goodbye. He's rather just slip out the door without a fuss.

"You're coming over this weekend, right?" he reminds them before Christian can get too emotional. "Family dinner."

"Of course," Christian says. "I'm looking forward to it."

"Don't look forward to it too much," Mark tells him. "I'm cooking."

"Can Heikki come?" Sebastian asks.

"Did you marry him while I was in Wales?" Mark responds.

Sebastian screws his nose up, looking confused. "No."

"Then he's not family," Mark says. " _Family_ dinner."

Sebastian gives a little huff before turning away and it tugs at Mark's heart. It's not really a bad thing that Sebastian has someone in his life he wants to spend all his time with, Mark feels that way with Fernando. He's not quite sure the two things are comparable though; Sebastian's only sixteen and he's known Heikki for all of about two minutes. Still, Mark can't really deny how obviously good he is for Sebastian.

"Fine," he relents. "But you two are doing the washing up."

Sebastian grins at him. "Deal."

Christian takes a deep breath and Mark can see him building up to something. "Well..."

"You're seeing me this weekend," Mark cuts in. "And I'm not a million miles away."

"I know," Christian agrees. He steps forward, pulling Mark into a crushing hug. "Look after yourself. And it works both ways, you come see us whenever you need anything."

Mark closes his eyes, hugging him back. "I know that. Don't worry, I'll be fine."

"I know you will," Christian agrees, squeezing him extra hard before finally letting him go.

Adrian smiles at Mark, that calm smile that shows nothing but confidence and love. Mark smiles back, feeling a little taller for having it pointed in his direction. They hug, firm and meaningful.

"We're proud of you, kid," he says in his straightforward way that makes everything sound like a simple fact of the universe.

"Thanks," Mark replies, the word getting stuck in his throat.

They part and Adrian steps over to Christian, putting a supportive arm around his shoulder. Christian sags into him and Mark suddenly feels far away from them. He looks at Sebastian who's swinging on his stool again.

"Well, guess you're stuck doing all the dog walking duties again," Mark says.

Sebastian suddenly jumps from his seat, launching himself at Mark and wrapping his arms clumsily around him. It only lasts a few seconds before Sebastian is back on his stool again, avoiding Mark's gaze, but it was more emotional and heartfelt than Christian and Adrian's hugs combined. Mark doesn't know quite what to do for a moment. He lifts his foot up, nudging Sebastian's shin with it.

"See you this weekend."

"Yeah," Sebastian mumbles, still not looking at him.

Mark turns back to Christian and Adrian. "Don't come outside," he warns them. "No ridiculous send off. I'm seeing you in a few days anyway."

Christian nods, looking choked up. "Text me when you get there. You don't have to call, but text."

"Okay," Mark agrees. He smiles at them and then leans down to pick up Kiska in her carrycase before he can change his mind, offering a small wave before turning around and heading for the door.

He doesn't even make it to the end of the lane before the tears come, overwhelmed with a sense of homesickness. There's no doubt in his mind that this is what he wants, but it doesn't stop the terror you feel when you finally plunge yourself off the edge of the board.

By the time he gets to Fernando's flat, an hour later, the worst of it has faded and he's pulled himself mostly together, a giddy anticipation creeping in around the edges about what comes next. He texts Fernando to come meet him at the car, not wanting to leave Kiska alone.

"We're halfway there now," he tells her, leaning over the back of the seat to look at her in her carrycase. She gives an irritated meow in response, glaring at him through the wire door.

Mark turns in time to see Fernando come out of his building, bag slung over his shoulder. It makes Mark instantly smile, gesturing for him to put his bag into the backseat, the boot already full. Fernando places it carefully beside Kiska before climbing in the front. He leans over, sharing a kiss with Mark.

"How do you feel?"

Mark sighs, feeling tired, but he can't keep the smile off his face. "Excited. Can't wait to show you it."

"I cannot wait to see it," Fernando enthuses. Kiska gives a high-pitched meow. Fernando turns to face her. " _Hola, gato._ "

Mark laughs. "Are you speaking Spanish to my cat?"

"Maybe she can be bilingual," Fernando shrugs, turning back around.

"Bilingual," Mark mutters, starting up the car. He wonders if that makes Kiska the equivalent of their adopted child, the absurdity of the thought making him laugh again. As he pulls onto the main road, Kiska meows loudly.

"Is she okay?" Fernando asks.

"Yeah, she's fine," Mark replies easily. "Just grumpy. Doesn't like the box. You think that's bad though, you should have been here when I was taking the chickens. I'm still finding feathers everywhere."

Fernando smiles. "They are settled in now?"

"Yeah, nice new chicken coop, bigger area to peck around in," Mark nods. "And they suit a farm better than a back garden, even a country back garden. I think they're going to like it here."

"I am sure they will," Fernando agrees. "I think it suits you better too."

Mark grins. "Nothing but fields and sky out there. Feels like my natural habitat."

The second half of the journey passes a lot quicker than the first, Mark getting more excited the more he tells Fernando about the farm. They chat about all the work that Mark and DC have done, Mark feeling a sense of accomplished pride settle over him, even though they still have a long way to go. This is finally happening and it's happening because he made it. He allows himself a moment to really appreciate that fact.

"I mean, don't get carried away, it's not a palace," he warns Fernando as they get close. "The windows rattle and there's drafts everywhere and the toilet flushes about 95% of the time but it's always a surprise whether you're going to get a hot or cold shower."

"I am sure I will love it," Fernando insists, reaching over to squeeze Mark's thigh. "I will love it because it is yours."

Mark feels suddenly choked up again, blaming it on the emotion of the day. "You're such a girl," he says, trying to stop his voice cracking. He's not sure he entirely succeeds.

They drive over the crest of the hill on the approach to the farmhouse and Mark doesn't think he'll ever get bored of this feeling. It's not just the views, it's the fact that it's his. He pulls up outside the farmhouse and just stares out of the windscreen for a few moments, soaking it in.

"Well," he says, snapping himself out of his reverie. "Better get Queen Kiska settled in."

Fernando climbs out of the car, looking around himself. "I love it, Mark."

Mark smiles at him. "Yeah. I love it too."

He grabs Kiska's carrycase from the back of the car, Fernando collecting his bag before Mark leads the way upstairs.

"I'll give you the full tour later," he promises. "It's still a work in progress."

"You do not need to keep justifying it," Fernando insists. "You think I will see it and not want to stay here tonight?"

Mark shrugs, opening up his bedroom door. He spent a lot of time making it homey so that Fernando couldn't resist being able to stay, so that maybe he'd never want to leave. When he and Jenson pulled the carpets up they'd found solid floorboards underneath and with a lot of sanding and polishing and staining, they looked beautiful. He'd added a few rugs to make it warmer underfoot without losing the rustic charm and the bed has soft pillows and a big blanket over the duvet, fighting off the autumn chill that's creeping towards winter. There's also a desk and reading lamp, a shameless attempt to give Fernando somewhere to study so that hopefully he'll be drawn to staying here more often.

"Is perfect," Fernando breathes.

He steps over to the window and Mark busies himself with opening up Kiska's carrycase and letting her out to explore. He sits on one of the rugs as she walks curiously around the room, sniffing at things and then rubbing against them to mark them with her scent, claiming them as her own. When she finally jumps up onto the bed, padding on the blanket before curling herself into a ball, Mark gets to his feet. Fernando is still stood at the window, looking out.

"I'm going to bring the rest of my stuff in," Mark tells him.

"I'll help," Fernando says.

Mark shakes his head. "It's fine, there's not that much. You stay here, get settled in. Won't take me long."

Fernando relents and after a couple of trips Mark has all his things in his room. If he thought leaving felt final then this feels even more so. He pushes the thought away, arranging all Kiska's favourite cushions and blankets on the larger windowsill, recreating his little reading nook. The smaller windowsill houses the little wooden farm Sebastian bought him for his birthday, all set up how Mark hopes his will look in a few years.

When he turns back around he sees Fernando laid on the bed beside Kiska. He smiles to himself. "You two suit each other."

"We are bonding," Fernando says.

Mark gives a small laugh, perching on the end of the bed and taking out his phone to send a quick text to Christian. He tries not to get too emotional as he presses send, feeling the two hours between them like a massive void. He looks up at Fernando.

"You want the tour?"

Fernando smiles widely, sitting up. "For sure."

They pull their coats on and Mark takes hold of Fernando's hand, leading him around the farm. He feels like there's not much to show yet but he has plans for every field, every piece of land, crops and livestock, a stall at the local farmers market, and in his ten year plan his own little farm shop, an integral part of the community. It's not just a pipedream, he has all the small steps marked off along the way, and he knows that looking ten years into the future of a farm he's only renting might seem foolhardy, but he doesn't see how this can possibly be a success unless he plans for it.

Sitting down on the low stone wall they watch the small herd of sheep grazing in the field behind the house and Mark doesn't think he's felt this content in a long time. Maybe he's _never_ been this content.

"The sheep have names?" Fernando asks. "Like the chickens?"

Mark smiles. "Not yet. Maybe I should pick some out though." He looks over the flock, considering them. "That's Betty."

"This is Yolanda," Fernando tells him, pointing to a close by sheep.

Mark laughs. "You're giving her a Spanish name?"

" _Si_ ," Fernando smiles, bumping their shoulders together.

"Elizabeth," Mark says, pointing to another sheep.

"Alba," Fernando says, nodding to another one.

They work their way through the flock, the last sheep falling to Mark. He pauses. "We should leave one for Seb. Let him name the last one."

Fernando smiles at him, looking touched. "You are a very sweet big brother."

"Yeah, well, just don't tell Seb that," Mark responds.

"I am sure he already knows," Fernando insists.

Mark looks down. "I think he's going to miss me. I think he kind of liked me being around again."

"Of course he did," Fernando responds.

"We used to do nothing but fight when we were younger," Mark says. "I hated having a little brother, he was always in my stuff or getting in the way or getting all the attention for being cuter than me or smarter than me or less trouble than me." He sighs. "And now he's a stupid stereotype of a moody teenager but... I think I might miss him too."

"He looked up to you, wanted to be like you," Fernando tells him. "Is why he was always there, in the way." Mark gives him an incredulous look. "Trust me, I am a little brother too."

"You wanted to be like your sister?" Mark asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe not exactly," Fernando says. "But I wanted to be grown up like her. And I wanted the attention like her. But she was pretty and smart and I was always playing outside and getting muddy and falling off my bike. Is how Seb felt, I'm sure. That he couldn't live up to you."

Mark gives a snort. "I'm a mess. I've always been a mess."

Fernando reaches out, touching his cheek to make him look up. He gestures around them, all the land under Mark's reign. "You do not seem like a mess to me."

Mark smiles, feeling his heart swell. "Thank you," he says, meaning it more than he's possibly ever meant anything. He takes a deep breath, feeling it fill his lungs. "Come on. Let's go check in with the chickens and see if we can grab some eggs for dinner. I'm no chef but I make a mean omelette."

"You have potatoes and onions?" Fernando asks as they hop down off the wall. "I will make you a Spanish omelette."

"Shall I just rename this place _la farm_?" Mark asks.

" _La granja_ ," Fernando corrects.

" _La granja_ ," Mark repeats. "And what's sheep in Spanish? So I can communicate with the other half of my flock."

Fernando smiles at him. " _Oveja_."

" _Oveja_ ," Mark nods. Fernando catches his eye and Mark can't help grinning at him.

"We will have your farm bilingual in no time," Fernando tells him.

Fernando cooks for Mark and DC, moaning good naturedly about how they really need to start a herb garden if they want to make any decent food out here. Mark loves the fact that he seems so at home; it's everything he could have hoped for.

"I'm so glad you got us a housewife," DC says as he gobbles down the food.

Mark gives him a look. "Shut the fuck up."

"You're sensitive," DC comments, looking amused.

Fernando smiles, nudging Mark's foot under the table. "He will not be so impressed when he sees is the only thing I can cook."

Mark knows it's not true, not after the birthday dinner Fernando cooked him, but he smiles along anyway. "He's not even smart enough to speak to the Spanish sheep."

"Spanish sheep?" DC asks.

Mark rolls his eyes dramatically. "You just can't get the staff these days."

"Any time you want me to head back up to Scotland, you just let me know," DC says, a note of smugness in his voice. Mark offers him a self-deprecating smile, letting him know he's won.

The three of them stay in the kitchen chatting long after the meal is finished and it's starting to feel like the heart of the home to Mark, just like Adrian had engineered the kitchen in Oxford to be. Turning a house into a home isn't a given but Mark really feels like he's getting there.

DC heads off to bed and Mark and Fernando finish off the bottle of wine together, an easy, contented silence settling over them. It's nice to not need the words. It's nice to feel secure and just _know_. They pile the dishes up in the sink, leaving the washing up until the morning, and Mark knows it's a bad habit he shouldn't allow to form, but all he wants to do is climb into bed with Fernando.

Kiska has found her cushions on the windowsill and is curled up fast asleep. Mark gives her a little tickle while Fernando gets ready for bed, glad to have her with him. He kind of hates admitting it to himself, but he really wouldn't be without her. Christian and Adrian made a smart choice.

Slipping beneath the covers Mark and Fernando find each other in the middle of the bed, wrapping themselves around one another. Fernando snuffles slightly as he settles, nuzzling against Mark's neck.

"Is cold," he murmurs.

"Want me to grab another blanket?" Mark offers.

Fernando smiles against his skin. "I can think of a better way to warm up."

"Oh yeah?" Mark asks suggestively, tugging Fernando a little closer.

Fernando tilts his head up, placing a kiss on Mark's jaw. Mark shifts down to meet him, their lips brushing together before Fernando is sucking gently on his lower lip. Mark closes his eyes, savouring the feel of it, the intimacy, one hand sliding into Fernando's hair. Fernando moves, climbing on top of Mark, their legs tangling together. Mark hums his appreciation, his other hand going to rest against the small of Fernando's back as Fernando kisses him more deeply, their bodies shifting subtly against each other.

The instinctive little squirms soon turn into focussed thrusts of hips, Mark's hand tightening in Fernando's hair, his T-shirt, needing him closer as their tongues slide together and Mark eats up every tiny noise Fernando makes. He can feel himself getting hard, that insistent throb that Fernando lights up in him but always leaves unanswered. Mark doesn't see it as a tease, it's not even deliberate, Mark's body responds a certain way to Fernando and he can feel Fernando's body responding in kind. Sometimes it's frustrating but mostly Mark is used to it, the expectation severed between hard on and orgasm. Sometimes he worries about what that says about him, about them, but right now is definitely not one of those times. Right now all he can do is feel and appreciate and shut off his brain to anything but this.

"Mark," Fernando gasps, kissing along Mark's jaw, lips catching deliciously on his stubble. "Mark. Do you...?"

"What?" Mark asks, lips travelling over Fernando's temple, his cheek.

"Do you have things?" Fernando asks.

"Like what?" Mark asks, his mind unfocussed, trying to get Fernando's lips back on his again.

"Condoms," Fernando says. "Lube."

Mark stops what he's doing, shifting back to look at Fernando, studying his face. "Are you sure?"

"Is the right time, no?" Fernando asks, looking suddenly uncertain.

Mark practically throws Fernando off him, diving for the bedside drawer. "I have lube."

"Condoms?" Fernando asks.

Mark pauses, thinking about it. "Somewhere. I think. Shit, they might be in my uni stuff that I left at home."

Fernando chuckles. "You have wanted sex for this long and you don't have any condoms?"

"Well a bit of fucking warning would have been nice," Mark responds.

"We can do something else," Fernando dismisses, trying to pull Mark back towards himself.

"I think I might..." Mark begins, but he pushes the thought away, shifting back over to Fernando. "Never mind," he says, kissing Fernando gently. He feels like sex might cheapen this now because the depth of feeling he has for Fernando doesn't compare to anything he's ever experienced during fucking. He doesn't know how to put the two things together, how to make them coexist.

He pushes Fernando onto his back, pressing a thigh between his legs, his hands sliding under Fernando's T-shirt as they continue to kiss. Fernando's hands trail up his back, taking his shirt with them, and Mark shifts back long enough to let Fernando pull it over his head, his hands going right back to Fernando's sides, his chest, feeling every gasp and moan.

"I love having you here," Mark says, barely aware of the words leaving his mouth. "I love you."

Fernando's hands fly to Mark's chest, pushing him back so he can look at him. Mark blinks down at him stupidly, not sure what's going on.

"Do you think your cousin has condoms?" Fernando asks.

Mark frowns at him. "What?"

"Because I really want you to fuck me," Fernando says, panting slightly. "Really. A lot."

The wave of arousal that passes over Mark practically makes him come on the spot. He groans, low and almost pained. "I'm not asking DC for condoms."

"But I want you to fuck me," Fernando repeats.

Mark's lips curve up into a smile. "We'll literally never hear the end of it."

Fernando lifts his head, brushing his lips against Mark's. "Is okay to be scared."

"I'm not scared," Mark dismisses. "Do you know how many guys I've fucked?"

"I would prefer not to," Fernando says plainly. "And anyway, is not the same. Is it?"

"No," Mark admits, his voice small. He sags against Fernando.

"Did you hear what you said to me?" Fernando asks.

"When?" Mark frowns.

Fernando pauses. "I love you too."

Mark smiles at the words, despite the roll of panic that turns his stomach. _Let it be_ he reminds himself, the advice everyone has always given him. He thinks of Sebastian, his stupid Beatles obsession. Only Sebastian could be nostalgic for a time before he was born, like it's such a hardship to be born into an era of smartphones. Mark sighs, trying to push the distractions away. _Let it be._

"I really want you to fuck me," Fernando whispers in his ear, the words making him shiver.

Mark nods his head. "Okay."

He racks his brain, trying to remember everything he packed, everything he left behind. He suddenly remembers his 21st, Jenson buying him a new wallet because his old one was practically falling apart. He jumps out of bed, pulling a box from under the desk and rifling through it, throwing things on the floor until he finds what he's looking for. His old wallet falls open in his hand and he slides his fingers into one of the compartments, smiling widely when he feels the little foil packet. He pulls it out, grinning as he checks the expiration date, just to be sure.

He turns back to the bed to see Fernando propped up on his elbows. "Is good?"

"Is very good," Mark agrees, climbing back under the covers.

They kiss again, long and drawn out, hands exploring, bodies acting on instinct. It feels so freeing. Mark worries he's built this up to be something it can never be in his head, that they waited too long and that night after they went dancing was the perfect time, that they'll never be able to recapture it again. There's no such thing as perfect though and as Fernando pulls his T-shirt upwards, Mark is more than happy to help him take it off. Fernando's hands slide down into Mark's underwear, cupping his arse and forcing their groins together.

"Is good," Fernando says, something so comforting in the words. Mark nods his agreement, pushing Fernando's underwear down as he kisses along his collarbone.

Naked, they thrust together, Mark closing his eyes and just feeling for a while until impatience takes over and he needs to taste, lips trailing over Fernando's neck, his chest, his stomach. It flutters under his lips as Fernando giggles. He reaches for the lube, holding it out to Mark.

"Come on."

Mark considers Fernando's cock, so close. He exhales, his breath falling over it, and Fernando squirms beneath him. Mark sticks out his tongue, licking flatly over the head. Fernando nudges his shoulder with the bottle of lubricant.

"Please."

"Yeah," Mark agrees, flipping it open as he moves back up Fernando's body. "Later though."

Fernando smiles at him. "Yes. Everything later. Everything." The words sound like a promise and Mark instantly accepts them.

He kisses Fernando's jaw as he slides a wet finger between his legs, pressing against his entrance. Fernando angles his hips upwards, making a needy little noise. Mark nips his earlobe between his teeth, whispering breathily into his ear. "Okay?"

Fernando nods his head, pushes his hips up in invitation. Mark takes a deep, shuddery breath before slowly pushing his finger inside. The noise Fernando makes is indescribable, subtle but filthy, going straight to Mark's cock. Mark stills, lets him adjust, but Fernando just moves against him, fucking himself gently on Mark's finger, making a noise of impatience. Mark lifts his head to look at him.

"I thought you might need a bit more time," he admits.

"Am not virgin," Fernando dismisses.

"No," Mark agrees, but he can't imagine Fernando has nearly as much experience as he does, not with how long it's taken them to get here. "So..."

"Keep going," Fernando gasps, closing his eyes. Mark does as he's told, adding another finger, Fernando so relaxed and open and inviting around him. "Mark," he exhales. " _Te amo. Por favor._ "

Mark can't help but smile. "Bilingual farm?"

Fernando opens his eyes, shining with amusement. " _No hablo Inglés_ ," he says. "Fuck me."

Mark leans in close, lips brushing his ear. "Say it in Spanish."

Fernando groans, arching upwards. " _Cogeme_."

Mark pulls his fingers out, reaching for the condom and tearing it open. He rolls it onto his dick, trying to resist the urge to jerk himself off. He allows himself a couple of strokes though, Fernando opening his legs wider as he watches him. Mark settles himself between them, trying to push away how momentous this is supposed to feels because he's sure that it will ruin it. Instead he kisses Fernando, slow and deep, telling himself it's only sex. Nothing could be further from the truth.

He lines himself up, hesitating for a moment as he looks down at Fernando, taking everything in, the way his hair spills messily over the pillow, the glazed adoration in his eyes, the flush that colours his cheeks. He pushes forward, choking on a moan as he pushes into Fernando's body in one long, slow thrust, every inch making his throat feel tighter until he's certain he can't breathe. He shudders as he finally stills, holding himself up over Fernando, panting and wasted and so overwhelmed. He stares dumbly down at him, feeling like his arms might give and he'll fall right through the earth.

"Hi," he manages to say.

Fernando smiles at him, his face lighting up. "Hi."

He wraps his legs around Mark's waist, forcing him deeper, both of them gasping at the sensation. Mark strokes his side, his thigh, trying to distract himself from how good this feels because he won't last very long otherwise. He looks at the headboard, the blank wall that still needs painting but he couldn't decide on a colour. Maybe Fernando could help him with that. He looks back down at him and finds himself perilously close all over again.

"You okay?" he asks, trying to shift the focus. Fernando nods, gripping hold of his shoulders. "Need a minute?"

Fernando shakes his head, rolling his body upwards, and Mark is responding before he can even fully appreciate what he's doing. He drags his hips backwards and pushes back in, his body setting up a rhythm, taking what it needs, Fernando arching into every thrust. They move together, Mark dipping his head down to kiss him, but everything is uncoordinated and a little bit desperate and all Mark can do is act on instinct, pulling Fernando's legs upwards to get a better angle. Fernando whines and Mark knows he's hitting his prostate, feels a swell of pride, but it's soon washed away by the arousal, Mark barely able to stand those tiny noises that Fernando makes in his throat, like begging and gratitude all in one.

He grits his teeth, closes his eyes, tries to slow his thrusts down, but Fernando is moving against him with such enthusiasm that he gets caught up in the momentum. They both need this, on so many levels, and Mark feels like holding back now will be akin to a lie. He watches Fernando's face, awash with pleasure, and he feels it tug at something deep inside him, an emotion that is somehow deeply tied into his orgasm. He can't make sense of that, not when Fernando's body feels so good around him, and so he simply surrenders to it, lets it wash over him, knowing that it's nearly over whatever he does.

He comes with a silent cry, back arched and body shuddering. He buries his face in Fernando's neck, tries to keep moving through it, wanting to draw it out as long as possible. He feels the pleasure pulsing through him, prickling at his skin, making his own body feel far too small for him. It presses at the inside of his skull, makes everything threaten to go black as he loses the ability to focus on anything but how it feels.

Fernando reaches down, touches himself, clenches around Mark's softening cock. Mark murmurs a noise, feeling a throb of arousal that makes his squirm, trying to untangle his own hand from the sheets, but Fernando is already coming, squeezing Mark's cock as it hits him, shivering beneath Mark's body before Mark has to pull out, too sensitive, falling bonelessly on top of him.

It takes him a while to get his breath back, the outside world slowly creeping in around him. He strokes Fernando's arm, finds his fingers and twines them with his own. Fernando squeezes them and then gives Mark a little shove with his shoulder. Mark takes the hint, rolling off him but keeping hold of his hand. He blinks his eyes open, staring blurrily at Fernando.

"You okay?"

Fernando smiles at him. "I am not so delicate."

Mark nods, playing with Fernando's fingers. "I'm usually better than that. Much better."

Fernando leans over, placing a kiss on his cheek. "Tomorrow you can prove it."

Mark's lips curve up into a smile. "Deal." He lets go of Fernando's hand, reaching down to snap off the condom. He ties it in a knot. "You want to get cleaned up? I don't really want to risk a cold shower right now, I'm happy enough with some tissues, but you probably want to..."

"Yes," Fernando agrees. He sighs, sitting up.

"Put this in the bin for me?" Mark asks, holding out the condom.

"You are so romantic," Fernando says dryly, taking it from him and getting out of bed.

"Don't say I never give you anything," Mark winks.

Fernando drops the condom into the bin by the desk and then steals Mark's dressing gown from the back of the door. "Cold," he says to himself.

"Towels are in the bathroom cupboard," Mark tells him, reaching for the tissues. "If you make it a quick one the water should stay pretty warm. Maybe."

Fernando slips out of the room and Mark yawns, wiping himself half-heartedly before snuggling down under the covers, feeling sleep tugging at him. He dozes lightly, rousing when Fernando comes back into the room. He watches the dark shape of him moving around the space before climbing back under the covers. Mark instantly grabs for him, pulling him close, not minding Fernando's damp hair against his shoulder. Fernando's arms go around him, snuggling in close, and Mark feels a bone deep contentment settling over him.

"You warmer now?" he asks.

"Perfect," Fernando responds.

Mark couldn't agree more.


	16. Chapter 16

Mark rattles the food pellets as he approaches the field, watching the sheep all turn around and start walking in his direction. He smiles, hit with the giddy realisation, for the millionth time, that he's actually a farmer.

"Come on, then," he calls out, the sheep speeding up in response to his voice. "You girls hungry, huh? You never stop chewing on that grass, I don't know how."

He hops over the wall, nudging past the sheep that press against him in expectation, and tips the bucket into the feeding trough, spreading it out so they all get a chance to get some. He can already tell which are the greedy, more assertive ones and which ones are more shy and retiring. He makes a note to start sneaking them a little extra when the weather gets really cold.

He looks over the fields, just able to make out the shape of DC still digging the vegetable patches they've both been working on all morning. It's hard work but Mark likes the fact that the progress is physical, something he can see. When things start to grow there he thinks he'll probably feel a bit like a proud parent, but he'll keep that to himself.

Leaving the sheep to the last of their food he climbs back over the wall and heads to the chicken coop to check on the hens. He gives them a little extra grain and opens up the henhouse to collect the fresh eggs. The basket on the counter is getting pretty full now, he definitely needs to unload some on Christian and Adrian when they come over later. He smiles at the thought, heading into the house.

He toes his boots off in the utility room, hanging his coat on the hook. The stone floor is cold under his socked feet and he places the eggs quickly in the basket on his way past, taking the steps two at a time. Opening his bedroom door he sees Fernando sat at the desk, books spread out beside him, laptop open in front of him, but his attention in on the iPhone in his hand.

"You need to get the internet out here, is a pain having to research on my phone," Fernando says, not turning around.

Mark smiles, stepping up behind him and placing his hands on Fernando's shoulders. "Research? You're on twitter."

"Now I am on twitter," Fernando agrees. "Was working hard, I am allowed a five minute twitter break."

Mark grins wider, leaning down to place a kiss on the top of Fernando's head as he squeezes his shoulders. "Well, internet request noted, but I don't think we get superfast fibre optic broadband out here."

"If I can study here I can stay more," Fernando says, tilting his head back to look at him.

"Yeah, yeah, request noted," Mark agrees, but he knows it's ruined by the fact that he can't keep the smile from creeping back across his lips.

After spending a couple of days with Mark when he first moved in, Fernando had returned to Cirencester, but last night he rang up and asked Mark to come pick him up again. Mark really wasn't going to turn him down. If it wasn't for the days he has to go into uni, Mark thinks Fernando would probably stay out here with him fulltime. The idea doesn't make Mark feel nearly as suffocated as he once thought it would.

He leans down, brushing his lips over Fernando's temple. "Time for a quickie before everyone gets here?"

"Have you started on the vegetables yet?" Fernando returns.

Mark sighs. "No."

"Then no," Fernando replies. "And go and have a shower, you smell of sheep food."

"I've been working hard all day," Mark tells him.

"The working hard I do not mind," Fernando says suggestively, angling himself to appreciate the affects of manual labour on his shirt. "The sheep food is not so good."

Mark leans down, capturing his lips in a lingering kiss. "Okay, I'll shower."

Fernando nods, putting his phone aside and turning his attention back to his laptop. "I will come and help you with the vegetables. We do it together will not take as long."

Mark squeezes his shoulders before pushing himself away. "What would I do without you?"

"Smell terrible and forget to cook dinner for your family," Fernando replies.

Mark nods. "Sounds about right."

The shower stays mostly warm but Mark doesn't risk lingering, washing himself brusquely under the stream of water before jumping out and towelling himself dry. There's a breeze through the bathroom that makes him shiver as it passes over his damp skin so he wraps the towel around his waist and goes back through to the bedroom where it's thankfully warmer, especially because Fernando has a space heater set up by the desk. Mark goes to stand by it, wrapping his arms around himself. Fernando looks up at him.

"How am I supposed to concentrate when you are stood there nearly naked?"

Mark grins at him, offering him a shrug. Fernando sighs and stretches his arms out in front of him before closing his laptop.

"Need to finish anyway," he says, getting to his feet. "For cooking. Not for anything else."

He steps up to Mark anyway, reaching up on his tiptoes to kiss him, his hands pressing against Mark's bare chest. Mark's arms go loosely around him, humming contentedly. Fernando takes a step back, giving Mark's towel a tug to make it drop to the floor.

"Hurry up or no one will have any dinner."

He shamelessly scans Mark's body with his eyes and gives a cheeky little smile before turning around and going out the door. Mark shakes his head, tempted to go chase after him, DC probably won't be back from the fields for a while. Fernando's right though, they have guests coming and Mark needs to feed them. Meal times for humans are so much more complicated than with animals.

He pulls on some clean clothes, tossing the damp towel towards the bathroom hamper on the way past. Fernando is stood at the kitchen counter, peeling potatoes. The smell of the lamb in the oven fills the room and makes Mark inhale deeply through his nose like a cartoon character. He grabs a knife from the rack and gets to work chopping up the potatoes that Fernando has piled up.

They work their way through the vegetables, Fernando peeling and Mark chopping and putting everything into pans. It all feels incredibly domesticated and Mark wonders how he can possibly have gone from college student to grown up in such a short space of time.

"You have a herb garden yet?" Fernando asks as he passes over the last parsnip.

"No," Mark responds.

"I will help you make one," Fernando tells him. "Otherwise I will be stuck with your bland English food all the time."

Mark bumps shoulders with him, throwing the chopped up parsnip into the pan. He turns to Fernando, opening his mouth to complain, but Fernando kisses him, quickly shutting him up. Mark melts into the kiss, opening one eye to scan the countertop, guiding Fernando back to a clear spot. He gives him a shove, helping him hop up onto it, pressing himself between Fernando's legs and humming contently.

He hears the door to the utility open and knows before it happens that DC is going to walk straight through. "Boots," he yells, barely having time to pull away from Fernando. DC stops in his tracks, already a couple of steps into the kitchen. "How many times have I told you, no boots in the house. You're tracking mud and whatever else all over the place."

DC steps back into the utility, pulling off his boots. "Just for the record, you sound exactly like Christian."

"Shut up," Mark tells him. Fernando nudges him and Mark moves back to let him slide down off the counter.

"Dinner smells good," DC says as he walks through the kitchen, a clear distraction technique. "I'm going to take a shower."

"I hope it's cold," Mark responds.

"Looks like you're the one who could do with a cold shower," DC winks before ducking through the doorway.

Mark grabs the kitchen roll, stooping down to wipe the mud DC's boots left on the floor. "It's like having a toddler," he complains.

"Vegetables are ready," Fernando points out, looking at his watch. "How much time do you think we have?"

"Enough," Mark responds, throwing the kitchen roll in the bin and grabbing Fernando's hand, pulling him from the room.

"Not sex though," Fernando says. "Too messy. I don't like your shower."

"Blowjobs?" Mark suggests, giving him a hopeful look. "They clean up themselves."

Fernando smiles at him. "Well, when you put it like that..."

Lying on the bed, breathless and mostly unclothed, Mark turns his head to look at Fernando, eyes closed and body heavy. Luckily Mark feels more energised than exhausted, a blowjob isn't really enough to take it out of him, no matter how good the orgasm that comes with it. He turns onto his side, tempted to reach out for Fernando, when he hears a car approaching. He sighs, cutting the afterglow short as he climbs from the bed, peering out of the window. Fernando groans, stretching on the bed.

"Stay here," Mark tells him, reaching for his jeans. "Sleep off my fabulous mouth."

Fernando snorts a laugh. "Your parents will think I am rude."

"They're not here yet," Mark says. "It's only Jenson."

Fernando purses his lips. "I will stay here a bit," he decides, pulling the blanket over him.

Mark smiles, pulling on a sweater before leaning down to kiss Fernando on his way out of the door. He jogs down the stairs, Jenson knocking just as he reaches the bottom.

"Hello," Jenson greets, smiling widely. "I brought wine," he adds, holding out the bottle. "Not that I can drink it, got to drive home again. To my empty flat." He sighs dramatically, shrugging off his jacket as he steps inside.

"You want me to send Fernando back with you?" he asks as he shuts the door.

"I don't care about Fernando," Jenson dismisses, following Mark through to the kitchen. "It's Nico that's fucked off to Monaco for the weekend. Did lend me his car though, saved an awkward lift from your parents. Me, Seb and his Finnish hottie squeezed into the back of a car? I'll take a weekend without my boyfriend to avoid that."

Mark smiles. "He would have been welcome to come if he was here, you know," he tells him. "And you can have the sofa if you don't want to drive tonight."

"I'll pass," Jenson replies. "I've got some work I need to catch up on."

"You want a drink?" Mark offers.

"Cup of tea would be awesome," Jenson says.

"Coming up," Mark agrees, turning to fill the kettle. "You weren't invited to meet the parents then?" he asks, giving Jenson an amused look.

Jenson shakes his head. "He's breaking the news about Christmas."

Mark raises his eyebrows. "Christmas?"

Jenson shrugs. "We're going to Germany, doing the whole Christmas market thing, drinking beer, I don't know." He plays with the edge of the counter. "I'm flying back Christmas Eve, spending Christmas Day with my dad. But we thought it would be nice."

Mark smiles. "Yeah, sounds good."

Jenson looks up at him. "What are your Christmas plans?"

"Jenson, that's still a couple of months away, I'm taking it a day at a time here," Mark tells him.

Jenson nods. "Think Fernando's going back to Spain? I think he'll stay here if you ask him."

"Yeah?" Mark asks. He hears footsteps on the stairs. "Shhh, that's him."

Fernando comes into the room, smiling at Jenson. "Hello."

"Hey," Jenson greets. "Enjoying life on the farm?"

"Yes," Fernando agrees. "Is very peaceful."

Jenson nudges Mark with his elbow, raising his eyebrows. Mark is grateful for the distraction of the kettle boiling, turning to make the tea.

It's not long before his parents arrive, Sebastian and Heikki in tow. Mark opens the door to them, instantly engulfed in a hug from Christian. Mark returns it in kind, amused by Christian's enthusiasm, before taking the two bottles of wine that Adrian offers out to him.

"Well, I'm definitely getting drunk today," Mark says, leading them through to the kitchen and putting the bottles with the one Jenson brought.

"Mark, this looks great," Christian says, taking everything in.

"Well, I mean, it still needs some work," Mark says.

"I can definitely see you settling down here," Christian says. "Turning it into a proper family home."

"It's got two bedrooms," Mark points out. "Not really cut out for family life."

"I can see a lot of expansion prospects," Adrian tells him. "I'd go out this way," he says, motioning towards the longest wall. Double the size of the kitchen, turn it into a family room. Big windows, I'm thinking floor to ceiling, really brighten it up and make the most of those views. And that would give you the floor space to add a master suite upstairs. We'd use local stone, Welsh slate for the roof, stay in keeping with the house. You want to make it grow, you don't want to just stitch bits onto it."

"Uh, well, okay," Mark says, a little overwhelmed by Adrian's enthusiasm. "I'll bear that in mind, but it's really not in the ten year plan. And I need to fix the windows before I do anything else."

Christian puts his arm around Mark. "Ten year plans don't work with family. Trust me, Adrian and you kids and the business, none of that was part of my ten year plan. Sometimes life has other plans and you just have to go with your heart."

Mark finds himself looking at Fernando who smiles at him, and Mark is instantly embarrassed that he's so transparent and loved up. He clears his throat. "Who's hungry?"

Everyone squeezes in around the table, Fernando helping Mark to dish everything up. The last thing Mark brings over is the meat, trying to find a space to put it down.

"What is it?" Sebastian asks.

"Lamb," Mark replies, placing it on the table.

Sebastian looks suddenly ill, glancing towards the window. "You mean..."

"Not one of mine," Mark dismisses. "I don't have any yet. This is from another farmer. He's loaning me a ram next week to try and knock my girls up, so hopefully we'll have some nice little lambs by spring."

"And you'll eat them?" Sebastian asks, staring at the meat with something like horror.

"That's what they're there for," Mark shrugs, taking his seat. "At least I know they'll have a good, happy life."

"And short," Sebastian adds. "Don't forget short."

Heikki reaches over him to take some of the meat. "Don't be so precious."

Mark smiles. He has to admit that he likes that kid.

They all chat as they eat, talking over each other, catching up. It's bigger than the family meals they used to have at home, just the four of them, but Mark can't see it as anything but better. His family has expanded, it's grown up, and Mark can't stop grinning as he watches everybody, feeling nothing but love and acceptance between them all.

"It is so beautiful out here," Christian says, staring out of the window, his dinner finished. "Remote though. You need to be smart about things. But it's really beautiful."

Heikki nudges Sebastian. "When I've got you up to 5k we should come out here, this is a great place to run."

"Here?" Sebastian asks, looking doubtful. "It's all hilly and uneven."

"It'll do you good," Heikki promises. "We're coming back here. When you're ready for it."

"That'll be a while," Sebastian says.

"You're doing good," Heikki insists, bumping affectionately against him. Sebastian smiles shyly, a pink blush rising up on his cheeks.

"Well, I'll get this cleared away," Mark says. "Coffee? Tea?"

"I'll help," Sebastian says, getting to his feet.

"It's fine," Mark dismisses. "I'm not really going to make you and Heikki do the washing up."

"I want to help," Sebastian insists, moving around the table, gathering plates as he goes.

"Okay," Mark agrees doubtfully.

He looks to Christian and Adrian who look as clueless as him before following Sebastian towards the sink. After taking drinks orders he fills up the kettle, turning it on. Sebastian is fidgeting nervously as he clears the plates, looking over his shoulder.

"Aren't they going to leave the table?" he asks quietly.

"Does anyone in our family ever leave the kitchen?" Mark returns. He looks at Sebastian who clearly has something on his mind. "DC, make the drinks, I need to show Seb something."

Sebastian looks up at him. "What?"

"Just come with me," Mark insists, heading through the utility and grabbing his coat. He hands DC's to Sebastian, his own coat hung up by the front entrance. It's far too big, swamping him, and it's kind of endearing, like when Sebastian used to steal Mark's clothes when he was little. He walks up to the field that houses the sheep, Sebastian following after him. They sit on the wall, the sheep taking on interest and wandering towards them.

"I can't believe you're going to eat them," Sebastian says.

"Not these ones," Mark dismisses. "These are breeders."

"Ugh, I think that's worse," Sebastian says, wrinkling his nose.

"Circle of life," Mark shrugs. He points one out. "That one needs a name."

Sebastian looks at him. "What, you want me to name it?"

"I named half, Fernando named half, I thought I'd save the last one for you," Mark explains.

Sebastian looks over at it thoughtfully. "Can I give it a Finnish name?"

"If you want," Mark replies.

"Can I ask Heikki to help me?"

"Do you do anything without Heikki?" Mark asks.

"Yes," Sebastian says stubbornly. "Do you do anything without Fernando?"

"Not much," Mark agrees easily. "We're stupidly in love. It's kind of ridiculous. I couldn't be happier." He looks at Sebastian. "What did you want to ask me?"

"Who said I wanted to ask you anything?" Sebastian returns, sounding like a typical grumpy teenager.

"Why else did you want everyone to leave the room?" Mark asks.

Sebastian sighs. He plays with the sleeves of DC's coat, picking at a thread. "When you..." he begins, but trails off, hunching his shoulders up. "For your first time, do you think it's better when neither of you has done it or if one of you has?"

"Has Heikki done it?" Mark asks. Sebastian shakes his head, determinately not looking at him. "I'm probably the worst person in the world to ask this question to, but I think it's probably better that way. I mean, you might get it wrong a couple of times, but you'll work it out together. That's probably nice."

"Get it wrong?" Sebastian asks, looking up at him. "How can you get it wrong? Don't you just put it in?"

Mark laughs. "Oh god, if you're talking like that you're definitely too young to do it."

"Well, I mean, it's not like we're going to do it right now," Sebastian dismisses, looking down and hunching his shoulders up again. "We're just thinking about it so I was just wondering. We're still... we're not there yet."

"Good," Mark says firmly. "I'd hate to have to kick his arse. He seems like a nice kid."

Sebastian smiles. "Yeah."

Mark claps him on the shoulder. "If you need someone to talk to along the way, untangle any of it for you, I'm probably the worst person you could pick, but I'm here if you need me."

Sebastian looks up at him, giving him an earnest look. "Thank you."

Mark gives him a nod, getting to his feet. "Well, that kitchen isn't going to clean itself."

Sebastian follows him back inside to find the kitchen empty, voices filtering through from the living room. Mark and Sebastian deal with the worst of the mess, rinsing the dishes and wiping down the countertops, and it kind of reminds Mark of being little, Christian making them earn their pocket money by doing chores. He always had such a good work ethic and Mark is glad that he instilled it in them too, even if he didn't exactly appreciate it at the time.

"Come on," he tells Sebastian. "Let's go sit down."

DC is starting a fire going, Christian and Adrian sat on the sofa with their mugs of tea, Fernando sat on the rug. Jenson is in the window seat with Heikki but he gets up as soon as Mark and Sebastian come in, leaving the space open.

"You have good taste," he tells Sebastian. "Well, not like we didn't know that already," he adds with typical light-hearted egotism.

Sebastian smiles, walking past Jenson to go join Heikki by the window. Mark turns to Jenson.

"What were you talking to Heikki about?"

"Just telling him Sebi has two big brothers so he better watch his back," Jenson shrugs.

Mark raises his eyebrows. "Two?"

"I totally count," Jenson insists, going to sit in the arm chair.

"Mark, I made you coffee," Fernando calls, gesturing him over.

Mark smiles at him, going to sit by his side on the rug. He accepts the drink and takes a sip as DC steps away from the fire, content with a job well done as he goes to join Christian on the sofa.

The conversation starts up again, Jenson and Fernando talking about university, DC good-naturedly taking the piss out of them, Adrian recounting his own university years while Christian looks fondly at him, even though it was about ten years before they even met. Sebastian and Heikki keep to themselves, talking quietly in the window seat, only eyes for each other. Mark just sits back, taking it all in, letting it wash over him. Everything he's ever wanted, everything that matters to him, right here in the place he calls home.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Where The Heart Goes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1725428) by [twowittoowhoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twowittoowhoo/pseuds/twowittoowhoo)




End file.
